City of Wayward Sons
by ValykirieRevolution
Summary: Set in between 5x04 -5x08 and the beginning of City of Ashes. As Sam, Dean, and Castiel struggle to stop the end of days, Clary and the shadowhunters are at a loss to defeat Valentine. After a chance encounter in NYC team free will and the nephilim are forced to work together to save the world. Various pairings and warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: We don't own. Belongs to Eric Kripke & co and Cassandra Clare. **

**Warnings: For the entire fic, it's T or higher. The violence is a bit higher than the average episode and possibly the books. Language is somewhat stronger. There are pairings of slash and het, mostly slow-build. Character death, Dub-Con, racism, and possibly other trigger-y things. Chapters with content like that will have specific warnings. **

**AN: This was originally are collab fic with MissStud but we lost contact with each other and I decided I wanted to keep writing. So this one's for you hon. This will be updated bi-monthly. Hope this will tide everyone over from the hangover hiatus. Enjoy!**

**Word count: 8,738**

**Chapter 1: In which everyone meets.**

**-**TMISPN-

In the high rise tower, only two people were inside. One was kneeling on the floor sweating with effort. It or rather, he was a warlock. He was laboriously etching into the expensive marble floor. The second was a man. He stared out the glass windows that surrounded the entire room. Whether he was looking at the skyline or his own reflection was anyone's guess. He stood absolutely motionless and his reflection revealed his impatience.

"Hurry up. I did not pay for slowness."

"Hey this is hard to cut through. I'll be done in a minute."

The warlock boy named Elias shrugged off his jacket to let his wings breathe. They fidgeted briefly and the man's lip curled in disgust. He ran a large hand through silvered hair as he watched Elias finish the pentagram and begin chanting. The Warlock language was offensive to the man's ears, but he tolerated it and waited until the ritual was finished.

Smoke rose up from the circle, dark and ominous. It was beginning to take form, thickening in substance. Its weight came from what it was: an ancient and powerful thing, defying what was natural, but it was so old that it was natural. It was something deeply ingrained in humanity for as long as anyone could remember. The smoke had eyes; they were covering its body and they were narrowed in cruelty.

"Who has called me?"

"I did. You are in my circle and you have to do what I tell you." the boy said.

"…Oh?"

An undulating pillar of smoke shot out of the circle. It went straight for the warlock. Elias let out a bleat of terror before chanting in a small voice. The demon let out a laugh. A laugh that sounded like a thousand dead men and scraping bone and crumbling cities. It launched itself on top of the boy, whose screams were muffled by the weight. It bubbled over in excitement and it was over as quickly as it began. It slid off the boy, who was no longer a boy but a crumpled mass on the floor. Surprisingly, his body was left unbloodied. The demon turned to the man, violence on its mind. It gave a wheezy chuckle; it was just as worse as its laugh.

"You know who I am?"

"Of course. It is good to meet you, Agramon." The man's voice was smooth.

"I killed your little summoner."

"I'm not surprised."

"You let him die; knowing his pathetic circle couldn't hold me?" It seemed to purr. "How devious."

The man shrugged delicately, almost demurely; an amazing feat for someone so broad shouldered.

"His greatest fear was that he wouldn't be able to hold you once you were summoned. It was well founded."

"What do I address you as….my Lord…?" Agramon rumbled in mock deference.

"Valentine."

"What a lovely name." a new voice appeared.

Valentine slowly turned to face the speaker, a blade at the ready. Agramon growled deep, low, and…softly. The demon bristled, body rippling and its eyes blinked. It was almost as if the demon of fear was afraid. Valentine felt a strange thrill go through him.

"Well then, just who are you?"

Instead of the stranger answering, it was Agramon. "Lucifer."

Valentine felt his body stiffen, his face trying to work out the proper expression. Hostility rose in him, but a smaller voice inside him urged caution. Something said this man was different, despite looking like an average mundane. Valentine raised his weapon a little higher and fixed the stranger with a stare that could freeze oceans.

"Agramon." Valentine gestured for quick, imminent violence.

The Greater Demon hesitated. The man calling himself Lucifer smiled. It was a calm chilling smile. The kind worn by those who are amused by conflict and certain that they are the cause of it. It was a smile that had seen through many wars and much pain.

Valentine watched as the man cocked his head, a curiously bird-like gesture, before sweeping his hand through the air. Agramon made an odd gurgling sound, like a dog being strangled. The demon halted, its black mass quivering.

"It has been quite a while hasn't it?" the stranger's voice made it sound as though they were merely discussing the weather. "When last we met, you were at the point of my sword."

"…Release me." Agramon managed to growl.

The stranger turned to Valentine, a lazy contempt in his eyes.

"Is that alright with you?" he asked, with icy patronization.

"…As you like." Valentine shrugged.

The stranger made another sweeping gesture and Agramon seemed to crumple to the ground. The demon's eyes seethed with hate, but it slunk back into the circle, and made no more movement. The stranger turned to Valentine and smiled. Valentine straightened and there might have been a spark of pride in his eyes.

"Most impressive. I would like to…ascertain if you really are-"

The stranger merely smiled, blue eyes looking coldly back at him; he knew his words had angered the creature, but suddenly, somehow he played with the shadows on the walls. The air became cold and Valentine exhaled sharply, seeing his own breath ghosting through the room. It became an oppressive atmosphere, the room seemingly shrinking; Valentine never felt claustrophobic before, but he felt so minuscule, like a flea floating by itself in the universe.

The room was freezing, enough so that ice began to coat the glass around them, incasing the entire room like a sheet. Valentine shivered, but the air shimmered as though there was a heat wave and Valentine squinted his eyes. He felt his heart hammer painfully in his chest, as if his ribs were being crushed by an iron vice. He could have sworn that some blood vessels in his eyes had burst. Still he couldn't, didn't want to look away.

It was there before him: glorious bright wings that held a touch of, not quite decay, but something frightening. A rotted star. It was like the deep crushing pull of the ocean. Something grotesque, but still managing to look beautiful, as if the decay itself was a prime example of the ruthlessness of nature. Valentine could not take his eyes off them, but it was unbearable.

It was him. The Morning Star.

A sudden thought occurred to him. They shared the same name, the same blood to an extent. That was why he could-was worthy enough to look at an angel and not be destroyed. He felt a delicious shiver go through him.

"Yes."

Valentine jumped. His mind was being read.

"You really are him…?"

"Yes. But I think you know that." Lucifer's expression became smooth and soft.

Valentine watched, amazed as the wings were folded back to wherever they had come from, and the thick menacing aura dissipated. For some reason, he couldn't find himself becoming comfortable in Lucifer's presence. However, there was something about him that made Valentine want to follow him, leap into an abyss for him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if this was how it must have felt for his old members in The Circle. He didn't know if he'd like to relinquish his own hold of control, but Lucifer was speaking to him…

"I can tell you about Raziel."

-TMISPN-

At the same time during that night, many blocks away something else of importance was going on. At the bar called the Hunter's Moon, a fight was taking place. Inside, the patrons were snarling and swinging punches at a laughing boy. That was boy was Jace Lightwood.

-TMISPN-

That night, Clary dreamed. Dreamed in vivid, cinematic detail. She saw Jace with wings. He was standing tall, a sword gleaming tightly in his hand; it didn't look like a seraph blade, but it hummed with power, and even though he struggled to hold it up, he looked every bit an avenging angel.

Images blended smoothly into one another as Jace's face twisted briefly to become Valentine's, who stared down terrifying points of light with an equally terrifying expression. She knew the light was familiar, becoming as known as the angel rising out of icy dark water. The surface of her subconscious rippled, revealing a shattered mirror, each glittering shard had a scene painted on them, and they all rained down on her.

She threw up her hands to keep them from hurting her face, but it was no good; it didn't prevent her from seeing the images.

Three figures standing tall with weapons at the ready, but she couldn't see the enemy they were facing.

Two women with red hair were embracing, and at first she thought it was her mother and herself, but it wasn't and even though one of them wore her face, she knew it wasn't her.

Then, it was Simon. He was bleeding in several places, bright blood spilling onto the floor, and he was being held upright by Jace. Jace, whose white gold hair rang like a halo against Simon's jet black coloring. They were pressed so close together that they could have been brothers.

Two men. One was kneeling to the other, and he had large black wings, his face turned upwards. The standing man had no wings and a burning hand print on his arm. The air seemed to shimmer around them like a powerful heat wave.

Four gleaming rings dangled on a cliff, colors crashing against her eyelids and she was filled with dread.

She was starting at Isabelle, her gold whip gleamed and it bound them together like a corset. Isabelle's fingers ran through her hair like a blessing.

Clary looked up at the sky. Runes were carved into it as though it were made, not of air, but glass. Shapes undulated behind the runes and then she saw them and knew they were angels.

She knew instinctively that was what they were. Her eyes burned just by looking at them, but it was worth it. They were magnificent and terrible. Power and grace radiating through them, brilliant points of light and shape. They moved with the feral symmetry of wild horses in motion. She felt a violent, sudden longing to go to them and stay there. It was all together familiar and alien.

Then, a pair of eyes turned to regard her, and she suddenly it was a thousand, a million eyes were upon her. Voices pierced her ears and she could almost understand them, almost as though they were merely on a different frequency that she was used to. She knew with a terrible finality that there was no way of connecting with them. She wanted to scream-

"Clary!"

Somewhere was shaking her awake. It was Simon, she realized. He was bent over her, glasses eschewed, and his dark eyes were large and concerned.

"You were shouting in your sleep."

"Oh sorry. I was dreaming."

"Helluva dream."

"Yeah."

Clary let the fog of heavy, but interrupted sleep slowly leave her brain. As the after image-like feeling of a strange dream began to leave her, she had a nagging feeling that she should sketch the images that were quickly leaving her mind.

The normalcy of Simon's couch, discs of anime, and the smell of old pizza was putting Clary at ease. It was easy to just dismiss the jumble of alarming images as the after effect of too much stress. Clary felt her joints stretch and pop.

"What time is it?"

"A bit after one." Simon smiled at her. "I thought you were gonna sleep all day."

"I could have." Clary mumbled.

She rubbed her eyes and the need for caffeine gave her a gravitational pull to the kitchen. Simon was just a pace behind her, walking so close that her heart automatically sped up. The night before, Clary had fallen asleep on Simon's couch, exhausted after visiting her brother. Her…brother Jace had somehow managed to get himself in trouble again last night when he picked a fight with a bunch of werewolves in a Downworlder bar. Not that that in itself surprised her; Jace would pick a fight with the Chrysler building if he felt like it. He was just so…something seemed off. A loud clink of cups on countertop forced her out of her thoughts. She shook her head irritably.

'_So what. Jace is his own person. I don't have the right to tell him what to do…'_

Clary bit her lip, and tried to concentrate on what was in front of her. Simon was filling their mugs; he looked oddly pale.

"So…You up for some fun?"

"What you have in mind?"

Simon's eyes lit up, and his boyish enthusiasm reminded her of when they were kids and Clary felt a sudden longing.

"Well there is this new convention, and Carver Edlund is doing a book signing!"

"Ok."

Clary was determined not to think about Jace.

-TMISPN-

"Awww fuck me."

"I'm not your type."

"Why are we here again?"

"You know why. There is some pretty weird stuff going on in the area."

"Yeah yeah."

Two doors slammed out of unison as two men began to walk up the street. Sam and Dean Winchester made their way to a new job.

-TMISPN-

At that moment, two things began to happen as the Winchester brothers walked into a building with a large sign up front.

The first thing was that three other young people were about to do their jobs as well, and the next thing was that somewhere out there, a tagalong angel had a foreboding feeling.

-TMISPN-

Clary watched as Simon tried to contain his excitement, and she grinned. After what happened at Renwick's they could all use a break. Simon was doing this mainly to cheer her up. She melted, and felt a wave of tenderness wash over her. She blinked in surprised; that was strange, but she scooted closer to Simon anyway. She could smell his aftershave.

"Hey, do you think we should have-" Simon gestured to the crowds with a wave of his hand.

Clary looked as cosplayers milled around, and she almost laughed. A bunch of men were wearing flannel, which reminded her of Luke and some had leather jackets. None of them looked as though they knew what anime might be, but she could be wrong, you never knew.

"Just looks like a bunch of guys, what would I be?" she asked as a scarecrow man walked past them.

"Well…something like that…?" Simon trailed off.

"Quite the selection."

"Shut up." he laughed.

-TMISPN-

Dean wanted to go back to Hell. Or maybe he had somehow gotten pulled back under.

"Urrgh."

He was pretty sure he heard Sam make a similar noise; he's glad there is something they could still agree on.

"What. The. Hell."

"I know, shut up."

Together, but really Dean felt strangely alone in a sea of leather jackets. He was surrounded by "Dean's" and "Sam's." Of all the places to find a job, it had to be one of these weirdo fan clubs.

"You're sure this is the place?"

Sam nodded, apparently too traumatized to speak; Dean didn't blame him. He almost flinched when an all too familiar scarecrow brushed past. Ugh.

"Let's get this over with." Dean grunted.

-TMISPN-

Something was wrong. Air currents lifted him up as anger surged through him. Something was about to be rectified.

-TMISPN-

Old stairs creaked of their own accord. Dust floated in the air. Jace let his trained eyes find the darkened places. Beside him, were two of his fellow warriors, Alec and Isabelle.

A low rumbling growl suddenly reverberated throughout the building. Jace tensed, he was a coil about to spring. He felt himself bare his teeth in rabid excitement. Jace could see Isabelle tremble with energy, and with a sudden flick of her wrist, wire-thin gold shot out into the shadow filled rubble.

A pain stricken shriek echoed off the walls, and the three leapt into action. Long serrated claws swiped the air, and Jace ducked low. Isabelle gave a fierce war cry, and her whip flung upwards, and a thin shoot of blood spurted out. It roared in pain and charged. An arrow struck it in the face, stopping the demon short.

"Be more careful!" shouted Alec.

"Lighten up!" Isabelle shouted back.

Jace whirled the blade in his hand, feeling the heady thrum of the fight. He rushed forward, and brought the edge of the blade to the side of the demon's underbelly. It was a weak spot where there were no scales, and he rolled himself beneath the creature. Its fetid bulk nearly crushing and he could tell Isabelle had rushed into the fray.

Gripping the handle of the knife, he slammed it into the belly. Its screams of pain reverberated throughout Jace's body and its blood drenched him. It suffocated him and he choked back his bile. Jace lifted the knife and plunged it into its belly again. It screamed and reared itself up. Jace sucked in a lungful of air, like a deep sea diver freeing itself from an octopus.

"Jace!"

Before he could move, a large clawed appendage batted him into the air. Alec and Isabelle yelled; gold whip slicing the clawed hand off and it fell to the ground. More arrows sunk into the demon's side. It shook itself roughly as Jace landed on the ground.

Jace crouched low, eyes signally Alec to shoot at the right moment. The three began to move in unison, ready to surround it. It growled, deep in its throat. Jace's fingers curled around his weapon, and he could have sworn he heard himself growl too.

-TMISPN-

Dean made his way through the crowd. Getting the info they needed was a pain in the ass; he hated these crazy fans.

"Hey, I think I saw a Bobby." Sam pointed.

"Oh God kill me." Dean growled.

Stupid little brothers. He tried to gather enough momentum to escape the press of the crowd. They were almost done here…

"Ah…testing." a hesitant voice warbled.

A sudden cheer went up and the energy of the crowd intensified.

"Ah…um. Yeah thanks."

Dean recognized the voice. It was Chuck. He could just picture the man now: his eyes would be darting every which way and they'd be so shadowed that he always looked like he hadn't slept for a decade. His hair would be a total mess, and his clothes rumpled.

It was almost hard to believe that the timid pulp fiction writer was actually a Prophet of the Lord. Dean could get a clear view of him now, and the smaller man hadn't changed since he last saw him. Right now, Chuck was clutching a microphone as if it were a lifeline.

"Um. Hi, I'm Carver Edlund. But…you all probably knew that. I write the _Supernatural _books."

Another cheer rose up, and Chuck smiled nervously. Dean felt for the guy. He tuned out the questions that the fans were asking, and turned around to grab Sam. Now that they knew who was haunting the place, they could get to the torching bit of their job. Wait. Dean looked around. No Sam. He gritted his teeth. Perfect.

-TMISPN-

Clary wriggled to get more room. Being pressed this close to Simon was comforting, but she felt a pins and needles sensation, almost like a strange aftertaste. Simon was practically buzzing with energy, and he felt like a furnace. She pushed a strand of hair away from her face; with this crowd it was heating up fast.

She listened to the fans questions with some amusement and was amazed at their thoroughness. From what little she read (from Simon's collection), she thought she couldn't get into it, but then she met Jace and then…

Her ears perked at the next question. A few fans brought up a passionate case that the two main characters, a pair of brothers-were actually in love with each other. The words "homoerotic." and "subtext." kept floating around, and their adamancy surprised Clary.

'_Wish someone would fight for me like that.' _

Clary actually gasped out loud as the thought came unbidden. She almost doubled over; a sudden sucker punch had left her completely winded. Clary shivered despite the warm air. The pins and needles feeling had intensified, and brought on a sudden dizziness between her thighs. She flushed with mortification.

Suddenly, she needed to get out of there. Clary shoved past people, not caring that they gave her dark looks as she went past. She walked on for what seemed like forever; her head spinning. Clary found a set of doors and struggled to push them open. She stumbled inside and sank into a chair. Her breath was coming out in rapid gasps, and Clary felt an irrational surge of anger at a pair of make believe people.

A small part of her mind told her to calm down. When her breathing finally eased, Clary could see her icy breath.

-TMISPN-

Dean finally spotted Sam and he rolled his eyes. That Becky girl had somehow wrangled his brother into a conversation. Dean felt a vindictive grin on his face; misery loves company.

"Sam!" he shouted.

Becky's eyes widened and Dean just gave her the barest of nods.

"Been lookin' for you everywhere."

Dean yanked Sam with such force, that if this had been a cartoon, Sam's feet would have been lifted clear off the ground. Sam only managed to get a glimpse of a dark haired boy asking Chuck for an autograph.

"Dude." Dean growled yet again.

"Sorry, she blindsided me." Sam shuddered.

Dean shook his head. The two strode past a set of doors when a sudden noise came to life.

"EMF?"

Dean pulled the small black object from his pocket. It was lit up, meter dashing back and forth. A sudden shout came from behind the doors and the two exchanged a look before kicking open the doors.

-TMISPN-

The demon had pinned Isabelle with its tail, which was bleeding in several places. Alec's arrows littered the soft parts of the demon. Ichor made the ground slippery, soaking the already dirty carpet. Jace could hear Alec panting with exertion; he had finally run out of long range weaponry and had to jump in to defend the other two.

Jace wiped blood out of his face. His muscles were finally starting to shake with fatigue, and-

It rushed at him. He heard Isabelle shriek his name, and Jace braced himself. The double row of teeth were bearing down on him, and he wouldn't be able to dodge in time-

Something brushed his cheek. It was soft and sharp at the same time, and it was so brief he probably imagined it. A frenzied flapping was in front of him, and he blinked rapidly; the air had shimmered in a brief wave. Jace found it hard to breathe, he almost fell over, but someone was standing between him and the demon.

'_Alec? No…' _

The figure was now solid, tall, and sure of himself. The demon was struggling; the man had one hand clenching the demon's throat, and in the other was a gleaming weapon. Jace shivered. There was something about the cut of the figure.

The man yelled something, plunging the blazing weapon into the demon's throat. It gave a final pain filled cry. It crumpled down onto the ground and slowly disappeared. When the final plumes of smoke rose up, briefly swirled about the figure before fading away, Jace stared. It was a man wearing a tan rumpled trench coat, and he stared at Jace with impossibly blue eyes.

-TMISPN-

Sam and Dean burst into action. Sam put himself in front of a small redheaded girl and Dean rushed to attack the ghost. The ghost of a long since dead maid flung Dean aside, shrieking.

"Sam get the-"

The maid ghost yelled again and made a move to attack Sam, but suddenly the redhead put herself in front of Sam, almost like she was trying to protect him. In her hand was a slender glass stick…thing. She yelled and made some kind of motion with her hand. It did nothing and she look surprised, but again-

"Duck!"

Sam hit the deck, yanking the girl down with him. Dean took the shot and the ghost flickered out. Dean nodded his head to Sam.

"Go."

Sam nodded, giving him a final look before running out the doors. Dean looked at Red and her strange object.

"Who do you think you are, Harry Potter?"

Red flushed, looking away and then her eyes widened. "Look out!"

Dean felt something slam into him. Maid ghost was back and pissed. His shotgun scattered out of his hands; he tried to drown out Red's shouting. He couldn't reach the iron knife he kept hidden, and he was pinned. Maid ghost's hands felt very solid around his neck. There was a sudden thumping noise before the maid ghost gave an unearthly cry before flaming out.

"'Bout time Sammy." Dean rasped.

He looked up in time to see Red stagger. She had lifted up a chair and it looked like she was about to slam it into maid ghost before she had flamed out. Red yelped as she let go of the chair and nearly toppled over herself. Well points for trying. The two looked at each other for a few minutes, not speaking. A sudden tinny chorus of generic rock music played. Red jumped, but Dean was somewhat grateful for the distraction that had come in the form of his phone. He pulled it out and flipped it open.

"Yeah."

"_Dean."_

His brain cells sputtered into gear.

"Hey. God give you more minutes?"

"_Actually-"_

"Whatever. What is it?"

"_I need you to meet me at this address."_

Dean mentally wrote it up, unsurprised to hear the dial tone. He looked back at Red, and gave her a brief smile.

"Later."

He raced out the door to meet Sam.

-TMISPN-

Clary panted, adrenaline still pumping through her veins as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. Of all the things that had happened today, or even the past few weeks, this was the most unexpected. Something told her this was big. Huge. You didn't ignore gut instinct, especially when it was screaming at you. Clary shakily stood up and grabbed her stele.

'_They saw it. I didn't even realize I was holding it. I tried to use my stele in front of mundanes!'_

Clary shook her head. She didn't know how to use glamour, but she didn't think it would be needed for a stele…but what if they weren't mundanes? The man with the shotgun (did Shadowhunters even use guns? She hadn't seen that before…) only seemed annoyed when she tried to help. Then there was the whole bursting into the room, literally with guns blazing that threw her for a loop. Wouldn't most mundanes be frightened or confused by…whatever tried to attack her?

'_Either way, they know something.'_

Then there had been that phone call. The only thing she had been able to catch was the address.

"The Institute!" she shouted aloud.

Of course, she should have noticed that sooner. Now suspicious, her brain clicked into gear and she raced out to find Simon. She found him blissed out on a couch and he looked up at her approach.

"There you are. I tried to find you." he held up a scrawled on cover with a grin. "I got my favorite copy signed!"

He must have seen her expression change because he became serious.

"What happened?"

"We've got to go."

She didn't give him time to react beyond standing up. He followed her without complaint. Clary felt a rush of gratitude. A few weeks ago he would have jabbered incessant questions, but now he just hurried up to catch up to her. Opening the doors and stepping outside felt good. The air was invigorating after the overcrowded building. The sky had darkened and the city was just waking up. Clary hailed a cab.

Sliding into the universal and familiar cab interior, she heard Simon slid in behind her. She barely gave him time to shut the door before she was calling out directions, ending with:

"Just follow that black car up ahead."

Simon's eyes widened and the cabby repeated her direction.

Simon nodded. "Yeah that 67' Impala right there." he pointed.

Clary looked at him in surprise.

"Since when do you know cars?"

The cab began to move.

"It's Sam and Dean's car." he leaned toward Clary. "More importantly, why are we following a couple of hardcore cosplayers?"

Hastily, Clary began to tell Simon what happened in the room. His eyes were wide by the time she was finished.

He whistled. "That _is_ pretty hardcore. They killed a spirit."

"How can you-" Clary shook her head. This was a curveball. "Just how is that possible?" she didn't expect an answer.

Now it was Simon's turn to be skeptical.

"You don't believe in ghosts? After all that's happened?"

Clary shrugged. "That's not the point."

It wasn't the ghost bit that threw her off, but the idea that someone could kill a ghost. Wouldn't that be…redundant? Besides, Shadowhunters never talked about them, or did anything close to what those two men did.

"The point?" Simon prompted.

"I heard the Institute's address-or I think I did. So what if they happen to be Shadowhunters? Really weird ones, but-"

"Or it could be like the books!" Simon looked excited.

"Your nerd is showing." Clary sighed impatiently. "Those books aren't real."

Simon didn't bother to press the point, instead he shrugged amiably. "Well those guys think it's real." he gestured to the black car.

Clary nodded absently. Something wasn't right. She perked up as the black car parked in front of them. The cabby said nothing as he pulled up in front of the Institute; he wouldn't be able to see it for what it really was: a magnificent cathedral, instead of an abandoned building. Clary rushed out, leaving Simon to pay the fare.

She walked quickly to the men that had gotten out of their car. She ignored the sound of a speeding cab and the worried intake of Simon's breath behind her. Clary didn't care. She focused on the two men, hearing the shorter one complain about something.

"Well, where is he? Tells us to-"

The taller one nudged his companion, noticing Clary marching up to them.

"Hey."

The two boys, no men, looked at her. She could see something like wariness in their expressions, but Clary wasn't quite sure why and she was strongly reminded of Jace. It made her even more curious, and suspicious.

"Red." the shorter one said in surprise.

Clary tried to gather her thoughts; she didn't want to give herself away, but she wasn't quite sure what to say next.

"What are you…?" She straightened herself up. "What business do you have here?"

Clary tried to sound more like a Shadowhunter; after all maybe that was indeed what they were. Wearing glamour to hide their marks, and deciding to use guns? She could tell they were surprised by her change in tone, and maybe a bit of something else. The shorter one looked like he might have been reaching for something, but the taller one looked at the Institute with confusion. Clary realized with a jolt that he couldn't see what was really in front of him.

"How bout' you mind your own business Red." the shorter man said.

"Clary." she snapped. "My name is Clary."

A twig snapped. Or some small sound exploded and everyone jumped. Well, Simon and Clary did, the two men just started. Figures hurried over to them. Four of them and Clary felt herself relax a bit. It was the Lightwood siblings. Isabelle and Alec were walking with someone sandwiched between them, almost as if he was being flanked. They were close enough now that Clary could read the tension in their shoulders. The man in between them didn't look nearly as agitated. She only registered that fact as something mildly interesting; her friends looked wary enough that a fight might break out. If they were dogs, their hackles would be raised. Clary looked behind them to see who was bringing up the rear, it was-

-TMISPN-

"Jace."

Jace heard his name. Clary's sharp intake of breath sent a little thrill down his spine. He composed himself quickly. She wasn't supposed to be here, and she brought the mundane no less. He hadn't seen her since yesterday, since his little brawl at the lycanthrope dive. It already seemed like a lifetime ago, and that he hadn't seen Clary ever since, but he pushed that hopeless thought away when he saw who she was confronting. Two mundane men. Nothing but trouble, both them and her. He could see they were older, and he felt a smirk on his face.

"Cas! About time. You tell us to be someplace and you don't even show!" the shorter man yelled.

"Apologies'." Said the man in between Alec and Isabelle. "Something diverted my attention."

The shorter man made a face. "Oh. How nice."

Jace didn't like the implications of their conversation, or the fact that Clary was somehow involved. He buried his hammering heart and turned his smirk into a sneer.

"Well Clary, you just can't keep yourself out of trouble huh?" he drawled and gestured to the two men. "They look like a handful. Well…not as much as me, but you'll take what you can get."

The reaction was immediate. Jace inwardly laughed. If he could just get an edge…and take everyone off theirs. He thought he heard Isabelle murmur something. Either it was a scathing "Boys!" or a positive assessment of the two strange men, he didn't know.

If there was one thing he knew he was good at, it was stirring things up. If only there was some kind of sporting event for that sort of thing…the shorter man looked as though he was sizing Jace up, with hard green eyes; he seemed a bit different than most. After finding Clary, Jace no longer thought the phrase:

_A mundane is a mundane is a mundane. _

He was glad about that because the man had subtly shifted his stance. He was a fighter. Jace would have liked to laugh in his face; a mundane trying to take on a Shadowhunter. That would have been interesting, since it looked like blood might be spilled shortly. He knew he could take him, and Jace felt the sudden desire to feel a knife in his hands.

Jace winked. "Like what you see?"

Green eyes smiled tightly. "Don't flatter yourself wavy gravy, I just gotta talk to my friend." he gestured to the man he called Cas.

It looked like Green eyes saw through his maneuver. Huh.

"Shame." Jace grinned.

"Who is?" Alec put it, voice dripping acid. "Who is he? Identify yourselves!" he barked.

The atmosphere dropped. Jace watched carefully; unlike normal mundanes, they didn't seem stupid or afraid. Jace was willing to bet they even knew how to defend themselves. The two men exchanged small looks. Looks that could contain sentences, paragraphs, or even a whole book. Jace knew because he shared looks like that with Alec and Isabelle all the time. They were sharing one in front of him right now, and those men could see the two were having their own little pow-wow.

So they were all on the same page; this was shaping up to end bloody, especially since it looked like they knew the man in between Alec and Isabelle-this Cas person. He had stepped in and killed a demon with ease, and with a weapon none of them had seen before. Yet he definitely not a Shadowhunter, and there were none of the usual signs of someone who lived Downworld either. He put them on edge, especially when he started telling them how much danger that they had been in, pestering and insisting that he had to come back with them. It was better just to humor him until they figured out what angle he was working, and so far he hadn't made a move to hurt them, but when did that ever reassure Shadowhunters?

"So, this loon belongs to you?" Jace asked.

"You have no idea." Green eyes replied.

The man…Cas gave Green eyes a look; Jace couldn't figure out if the man was confused or annoyed. Before he could find out, he heard Clary make an impatient noise.

"Come on, you guys are Shadowhunters right?" she sounded like she wanted to say more, but cut herself off.

"Are we what?" was said in unison with, "Obviously not." that came from Isabelle.

Jace rolled his eyes at Clary. Alec looked as if he was about to go into a lecture and point out all the ways they weren't. Better nip that in the bud, but Clary beat him to it, looking straight at this Cas person.

"What about you? Are you a Shadowhunter?"

He…Cas looked confused for a moment, tilting his head like a bird, strangely enough. Jace turned to the man to her the answer. He felt more than saw the mundane men were frozen with anxiety.

"No…I am an angel of the Lord." the man intoned.

Silence. No one quite knew what to say to that, but Jace turned to the two men, somehow his subconscious had decided that the mundanes would have an answer. Alec, Clary, and Simon seemed to have the same idea. They turned their eyes to the men. Green eyes looked uncomfortable at the scrutiny, even more so than the taller one. Green eyes slapped a palm to his face, the sound like a gunshot and his shoulders were still rigid. Tall looked fairly horrified and had gritted his teeth.

Jace's intuition was doing odd flip-flops. They had looked like they believed it, that they were thinking just how to cover this up, like Cas had just revealed a big dangerous secret. This had to be nonsense right? Lesser Nephilim might have made some sort of shocked exclamation, but Jace knew a small part of him was mockingly speaking to him.

'_Just what is that phrase again?'_

This was different. Unexpectedly, he flashed back to the conversation he had with Clary in the church. When they had their discussion about God right before they took off to the Dumort to save rat-boy. The sensible, modern part of Jace came to his defense, ready to help Jace's mind's sense of self-preservation. He turned to Cas.

"We don't sell strait jackets here." he was unable to come up with anything wittier.

"I am not deceiving you."

Cas's eyes pierced into him. They were eerie, vivid, and impossibly bright. They reminded Jace of the Fair Folk, and he knew then, knew with some deep, hidden part of himself that he was afraid. This man was not human. Not in any way, and Jace could actually feel the man's power. It felt small at first, but began to bubble up, like water from some deep well and it steadily rose, like a fountain pouring over. Suddenly it was very overwhelming, and very _there_. He had been stupid not to notice it sooner, and even more suddenly it seemed very familiar, as though he knew it once upon a time and he used to swim in that fountain.

As if from far away, he could hear a few people make some kind of noise, like a gasp or a sigh. Maybe some kind of tug and pull; a large rope that pulled him beneath water…

"Cas."

Someone spoke. It was Green eyes. Jace thought he heard the man's voice had shaken. The world came back into focus. Green eyes did look a bit shaky, and Tall kept looking worriedly at everyone. Cas blinked, as though he had also been affected.

"Cas?" Tall asked.

"We." Cas gestured, voice steady. He gestured to the two men. "Will request asylum, it is imperative."

"Asylum?" echoed Alec and Tall incredulously.

"Cas-" Green eyes looked about to protest.

"Sure why not." Isabelle flippantly cut everyone off. "We're a charitable bunch when we feel like it." she smiled.

Alec looked like he wasn't the only one about to protest, but Isabelle glared fiercely at them. Jace smirked; typical Isabelle, her expression said this:

"_There are more of us than them. If they start anything, we can handle it."_

Her feral grin told him he was exactly right.

"You just think they're cute."

She grinned even wider.

"Come on in."

Green eyes grinned at hearing this, but he pointed it out all the same.

"Come in where? It's just a bunch of-"

Cas walked swiftly to the men's sides, ignoring the Lightwoods on either side of him. He placed a hand on each of their shoulders. Their reactions were amusing for Jace.

Green eyes' was louder. "What the fu-"

The Taller one cut him off, eyes wide with awe.

"Cleans up good." He smiled at them, as if manners were now usable, "I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean."

Dean briefly waved. "Yo."

Alec jerked his head, "Come on then."

Jace rolled his eyes. About time; it had been too tense for too long. Everyone began to file up to the entrance; the strangest group so far seen. Jace watched Clary whisper something to rat-boy. It set his teeth on edge, but Clary smiled softly with undisguised warmth. His belly clenched; his… sister…who had every right to look at someone like that. Clary brushed past, close enough for him to smell her shampoo; he nearly flinched. Of course she'd want to come along. Perfect.

"Can't resist either?" he mocked. "Really think this is a good idea?"

Clary glared at him. "I have every right to be here."

Jace took one look at her expression and took a mental step back. Clary nodded, almost as though she could read his mind. She turned to Simon.

"I'll see you later."

Simon looked ready to protest, and Jace was vindictively pleased to see that Clary looked a touch annoyed. Suddenly Jace felt a strong irritation at Simon's protectiveness.

"We won't eat her." Jace made a shooing motion and deliberately tugged on Clary's arm.

Simon didn't look cowed, but a flush flared up in his face. Clary took one look and quickly moved back to Simon's side. Jace felt another irrational swoon of anger; he refused to acknowledge it and quickly grimaced. Clary gave Simon a brief hug, before she turned around to dash into the Institute, only stopping to give Jace a heated glare. He felt another sharp thrill go through him. Jace managed to see Simon angrily pivot away from him and hail a cab. Jace didn't feel a squinch of guilt as he walked inside the imposing cathedral.

-TMISPN-

The lift was cramped, which didn't help with the awkward silence of strangers being pressed together. For the record it went like this:

Sam, the tallest of the three men, and possibly the group, was towering over Alec, trying not to fall on top of the younger boy. Isabelle and Dean were sandwiched together, which neither seemed to mind. Sam had mouthed, _'Jailbait.' _in his direction, but was ignored. The two were jostling the others, making nearly everyone topple over. Jace nearly tripped Clary as she struggled to remain untrampled by tugging on his shirt. Their tug and pull war was sending them careening into Sam and Alec, who both seemed mortified. Only Cas had managed to remain completely still no matter how many times the elevator shook.

"Is this a good idea?" hissed Alec, who then blushed at how audible he was.

"No. Your sister just wanted to invite sociopaths to dinner for fun." Jace replied sarcastically.

"We're really not crazy." Dean offered, a sly grin ruining his words.

"Now_ that _is a shame." Isabelle grinned back.

Alec made a face nearly identical to Sam's. "Sorry about him." he said to Alec, who just grunted.

"I only meant that mundanes usually aren't…allowed." Alec replied.

"That why your boyfriend didn't come along?" asked Dean to Clary.

"He isn-" Clary started.

"Yes, and he is." Jace interrupted. "They are inseparable…like rabbits."

"Jace!" Clary shrieked, red faced. She managed to hit him on the arm.

The elevator clanged to a halt, doors screaming open in sudden protest. Everyone tumbled out, like a pile of kittens dumped out of a box. Only Cas remained upright. He stared curiously at them, as though humans sprawled on the floor was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. Cas very delicately walked out of the elevator and carefully avoided stepping on anyone as they all picked themselves up. He received a few looks, but he just tilted his head.

"We'll use the kitchen. Mom's been in the study all day, and probably won't come out at all. This way."

Isabelle imperiously sashayed the way. Jace smirked at how Dean's eyes flared in mild interest. Typical; his sister wore confidence like a fashion accessory. In this way, she was different from her-from Maryse.

Maryse had not so much as spared him a glance, or rather, one that wasn't cold. It filled him with dread. Maryse had never been considered a warm person, but she had never looked at him like _that_. Jace knew, with a sinking feeling, that it had to do with Valentine.

"Hurry up!" Isabelle called.

-TMISPN-

A few ways from the entryway and the hallway that led to the kitchen, sat Maryse. She was indeed in the study, sitting at the large mahogany desk, and unable to leave. For eternity it seemed, even though she had only arrived two days earlier. She had been trying to compose a letter and put down the things that needed to be said. Maryse, feeling quite old, ignored the faint ghostly sounds coming from the kitchen.

-TMISPN-

The kitchen had a guarded air; the defenses were starting to come back, but not for the purposes of life preservation, so that was something. Sam, Dean, and Cas sat on one side of the table. Jace, Alec, Clary, and Isabelle on the other.

"So…you must be really big fans." Clary broke the silence.

"Scuse' me?" Dean asked.

"Well…Sam and Dean." she stated meaningfully, "a…what's it called? An Impala?"

"Oh God." Dean groaned. "Nooooo-you're one of Chuck's fans?"

"Chuck?"

"Carver Edlund." Sam supplied.

Clary's expression cleared. "Oh no, I'm not. That's Simon, the boy who was with me." she clarified.

Jace snickered. "No surprises there."

Jace was promptly elbowed by Clary.

"So then…what you guys did at the convention." Clary asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Jace and his siblings looked confused, so Clary told them what happened at the convention. When she finished, Sam was the one who gave the explanation. The Shadowhunters looked skeptical, but now it was mixed with a kind of studious curiosity. As if they found a particularly interesting species of monkey.

"Really?" Isabelle asked.

"Really?" Jace mocked. "That's a shocker."

"Really." Dean answered. His reply wasn't nearly as sarcastic but it could get there.

"There's-" Sam began.

"Surprising thing for a mundane to do." Alec interrupted.

"What the hell does that even mean?!" Dean snapped.

"A normal human." Clary explained.

The other teenagers gave her a brief warning looking, and then Jace shrugged.

"People who can't see the shadow world. There are things that are…um…magical, and normal people can't see them. Not in a metaphorical sense, but…argh, I'm not explaining this right." she spread her hands.

"People like you." Jace interrupted, exaggerating his rude tone.

Sam gave a self-deprecating smile. "We're not exactly normal."

"We're hunters." Dean said, as if this was enough explanation.

The two brothers exchanged their own look before taking it further.

"I'm not really sure what you mean by the shadow world, but there _are_ things that exist that most people don't know about-" Sam spoke quietly.

Jace opened his mouth again, but Clary shushed him. Isabelle gave her a grateful look.

"Monsters are real." Dean cut in. "We hunt em'"

Sam shot his brother an annoyed look as Alec and Isabelle exchanged surprised looks.

"How?" Alec began.

"Really?" Jace stated dryly. "Monsters-I had no idea."

He looked like he might go on a bit more, and Dean looked ready to do the same.

"Where can I find a unicorn?" asked Jace, more to rile Dean up than anything else. Dean seemed to understand this. "Usually in the asses of uppity teenagers." he shot back without much heat.

"Shut up." Sam and Clary replied in unison.

Isabelle seemed the most amused by that.

"Sorry about him." Clary jerked a thumb at Jace.

Sam took a guess. "Your brother?"

Clary made a big show of rolling her eyes. "Unfortunately."

"Then I'm sorry about mine." Sam smiled. "It's been a crazy day."

Clary could sympathize.

Alec cleared his throat. "You were saying?"

Sam blinked. "Well Dean's right. Pretty much every single nightmare you can imagine-you name it, it exists. Hunters stop them from hurting people."

"Like Shadowhunters." Clary smiled. "We do the same things. Keep people safe."

Her words were simple, and something about them made Sam smile.

"What I'd like to know is how do these mundanes…hunters, know this?" Alec asked.

"Well not from brochures." Dean replied, somewhat evasive. "I don't know how it is for…Shadowhunters, but it usually isn't pleasant."

Nothing needed to be added to that really; the four Shadowhunters had a pretty good idea of what Dean meant.

"This has been interesting an' all," Isabelle broke the spell. "But what do Hunters do for fun?"

-TMISPN-

A couple of hours, explanations, and stories later, the three guests were showed to their room. Dean had the feeling that the kids probably thought the three of them were crazy, but that's been said before. He saw the looks they gave each other. The, If-these-guys-turn-out-to-be-stark-raving-lunitics-we-can-still-take-em' looks. He should know, he shared quite a few of those with his brother.

"Shadowhunters huh?"

"Yeah."

Dean sat on one of the beds. The room was spare, almost Spartan, but somehow Dean missed the skeevy motels they usually stayed in; at least those looked normal. One of the kids…Alec, had told them, this place was usually reserved for traveling Shadowhunters, and from the looks of things, could house tons.

"They're just kids." Sam sounded vaguely shocked.

"Yeah well…" Dean trailed off. "I know."

He knew what Sammy was getting at, but they didn't exactly have a shining example of childhood either. He could see from his brother's face, that he knew what he meant.

"Just wow. I mean did you see the looks they were giving us?"

Dean nodded. It reminded him of when he first met Rufus or Gordon. Just a bit different because it was a new species, like if a tiger met a lion in a dark alleyway. It was kinda creepy.

"Hopefully they won't go _Children of the Corn' _on our ass." he grinned at Sam.

Sam laughed at bit as he sat down.

"Honestly, I'm just glad this is just for tonight." Sam said.

"Yeah, thank God. Speaking of." Dean turned to Cas. "You ditch us to go on a God hunt, but you call us up and this happens. The Hell?" Dean directed at the angel.

Cas looked up; he seemed slightly confused.

'_Serves him right.' _thought Dean.

"You've been awfully quiet." Sam looked at the angel.

Of course, Sam looks concerned. Apocalypse or no, Dean wants to prevent chick-flick moments, and this is getting dangerously close to one.

"Try weird." Dean considered this, "Well weirder, ever since you called us."

Cas seemed to pause, looking meditative. "I sense something strange."

Dean clicked his tongue. Of course an angel would sense a disturbance in the force.

Sam looked a bit worried now. "Like demon strange…?"

"Yes and no."

"Helpful."

Cas gave Dean a somewhat dark look.

"It is difficult to explain. They…those children seem familiar. Not in a tangible way, but rather a power." he seemed almost at a loss.

Sam just looked confused.

"So…you called off your God hunt because your angel spidey-senses were tingling?"

Cas frowned, looking like he was trying to puzzle out the human expression to figure out what Dean meant.

"Yes. Something is going on in this city."

"Thanks Cas. That really clears things up."

Cas frowned again, now with annoyance and Dean grinned. The angel finally seemed to understand the concept of sarcasm now. Dean turned over.

"Ok, wake me up when things make sense again."

**TBC…**


	2. All of the above

**Disclaimer: I don't own SPN, TMI, or The Tithe trilogy by Holly Black.**

**Warnings: Snarky demons, teenagers, and grumpy women. **

**AN: Some of Holly Black's character will make cameo's in certain places, given that TMI and Tithe series takes place in the same universe. **

**Word count: 11,860**

**Chapter 2: All of the above.**

As cliché' as it was, it was the next day and the inhabitants of the Institute woke up and began their day. Light filtered in through the windows, so no nook, cranny, or crack escaped illumination and made it impossible for anyone to stay asleep. When Sam woke up, Dean was already gathering their things and Cas was sitting quietly, watching them.

"Get ready." Dean instructed. "We'll be outta here in 5."

Cas hesitated. "You go. I wish to stay."

Both turned to him. Dean looked at Cas with a strange expression.

"Scuse me?"

"I wish to remain here. Something is…enamoring me to stay…"

Sam frowned. "Like a spell?"

"No." Cas paused, long enough that Sam thought he wasn't going to elaborate. "A sort of…memory of power. An echo you could call it."

"Thanks for clarifying." Dean replied dryly.

"Um, well. Let us know when the, er, echo is done. Or really, if you need anything."

"Thank you." Cas might have smiled.

Dean scowled and stalked out of the room.

SPNTMI

Meanwhile,

Jace stood in the old study that used to be Hodge's, and faced Maryse; the large mahogany desk was in between them. He felt defenseless from her scrutiny. Maryse was never looked at him with such cool eyes; he was her favorite. This was the first time that he found that he did not want to be in her company. His dread increased, he lowered his gaze, letting it rest on the table's 'legs'. The 'legs' were actually angels carved from the wood, their expressions filled with anguish as they struggled to hold up the heavy wood of the desk. Jace could sympathize with them; he wished he could be as expressive as them. Maybe if he was, Maryse would look at him normally again.

"Jace."

"Maryse."

"I raised you for 7 years, you came into our lives and I thought I knew everything about you-"

"You do." Jace quickly interrupted. "I'm still the same person."

Maryse's lips thinned and Jace could feel the sudden stomach plummeting, ice water drenching terror; something wild was flying inside of his chest, frantically trying to escape. Hope was still fighting to survive. Jace inhaled sharply to control himself.

"You really didn't know Valentine was your father?" Maryse's expression was oddly hungry. "All those years you spent with him and you never knew?"

Jace was shocked to realize that that Maryse was looking to him for reassurance; Mayrse, who never showed pain or uncertainty. Maryse, who was an _adult_.

'_Who should know these things.' _Jace thought angrily.

"How?! He never said '"Oh by the way son, did I ever tell you that I was an evil overlord?"', Jace stopped when he saw he saw Maryse's expression. "I had no idea."

She looked grim, as if she had already come to a decision and hardened herself to it.

"I can't take that chance."

Jace stared, incredulous. She was resolved; he knew she wouldn't change her mind. Jace struggled to clamp down on the hurt-he couldn't deny that, even to himself that broke like a geyser inside of him. Disappointment became just as strong inside him. Still, he wanted to give one final try.

"You've known me for 7 years…" he tried not to plead.

"I've called the Inquisitor." she ignored Jace. "The Clave needs to know what has happened-"

"I can take it from here."

It took all of Jace's self-control not to make a move. He had been so preoccupied with Maryse, he didn't even notice that another person had been in the room! Was he or wasn't a Shadowhunter?!

"Who are you?" demanded Jace.

The woman blinked. She had pale, nearly colorless eyes that were framed inside a tight, angular face. Her lips were a firm line. Her hair was pulled up in a severe bun and there wasn't a single strand out of place. Her clothes were stiff, with a high collar and the color of ash. Jace had the impression that he was looking at a really tall bird of prey, just waiting to tear him out of the institute.

"I am the Inquisitor." her voice as cold and colorless as her eyes. "I will be referred to as such."

The Inquisitor scrutinized Jace as though he was a dissected frog. His insides rippled with nervousness when her gaze drilled into him. He suppressed a shudder.

"I've been waiting for this, Jonathan Morgenstern."

"Jace." he corrected. "And I think you should stick to someone your own age." he added.

Maryse stifled a gasp. The Inquisitor's eyes, if possible, became even flintier.

"Watch how you speak to me boy."

Maryse glared sharply at Jace, and he felt a surge of anger at her. It was her fault; she brought the Inquisitor' in this when she decided not to trust him-

"I guess I can't help it. Sarcasm is just a part of who I am."

SPNTMI

The two brothers made their way downstairs. Through dimply lit corridors with old lamps stuck onto the wall's corners. Sam guessed the building was pretty old, and he resolved to figure out what he could about the building. The ceiling was domed and the wooden beams were dark and arched. Every time they turned a corner, a carving was perched somewhere on the beams, each one looking downwards as if watching the people walking below. Instead of gargoyles, they were angels. Some carried swords, or stood tall. All manner of angels, all looking beatific and awe-striking. It was somehow managed to complement the Victorian-esque flowered wallpaper.

"It's like a movie set." Dean whistled softly. "Now how do we get out?"

Sam shrugged, the winding passages and numerous rooms seemed to be designed to be imposing and confusing for those who didn't live there. A corridor and a turn later and they wound up in the kitchen.

"Finally." Dean smiled when he noticed where they were.

Sam smiled back; this was more familiar and there were people inside of it. Two boys, one was taller with jet black hair, and the other was smaller with glasses. It was the boy named…

"Alec right?" Dean asked.

He nodded. "Hello."

"We've gotten turned around, so if you don't mind showing us the way out, we'll get outta your hair." Dean said.

"Of course." Alec turned the younger boy, "Max, go back to your room for a bit."

The boy named Max made a face. "But…"

Alec gave the boy a look. The boy, Max, made another face before leaving the kitchen, giving both Sam and Dean curious glances. Sam felt an odd twinge of guilt and familiarity; was Alec trying to protect the boy from them, the outsiders? Sam turned to Alec, who was regarding them silently.

"Thanks for letting us stay here, especially since it was so…inconvenient for you."

Alec looked somewhat sheepish; he knew what Sam really meant.

"It's no problem. This way."

SPNTMI

Clary wandered down from her spare room; she was unable stay asleep any longer. She usually didn't stay at the Institute for such lengthy amounts of time, so maybe she was just jumpy from sleeping in a place she normally didn't occupy. She hadn't stayed overnight unless something bad had happened…

She decided she'd have breakfast if Isabelle wasn't going to cook it. Speaking of, Clary could see the striking figure of Isabelle standing only a few feet away. Isabelle raised her hand in greeting.

"Morning." Clary said when she got close enough.

Together the two walked down the brightly lit hall. Clary could tell they were moving past the kitchen, as Isabelle only craned her neck briefly before moving on. Clary raised her eyebrows.

"Um…no breakfast?"

"You can, if you want." Isabelle sounded disinterested.

"Well what are you gonna do?"

Clary assumed that Isabelle was going to do some type of Shadowhunter training thing.

"I wanted to see those guys off." Isabelle smiled, slow and mischievous.

Clary felt at ease enough to tease. "Of course. Why should I be surprised?"

"Hey! Didn't you think they were cute?"

"Well…"

Clary didn't have to think too hard on that one. It was true; they were…nice looking, almost rivaling Jace. Both had green eyes, only shades apart from each other, and they both had something serious about them. Almost like Shadowhunter eyes. The kind that had seen many difficult things and Clary was curious as to what those difficult things might be. It was hard to describe, but she was reminded of Jace.

She nodded to Isabelle, who had already looked decisive about Clary's assessment of the two men.

"How old do you think they are?" Clary asked.

Isabelle shrugged. "Does it matter?"

Clary laughed. Typical Isabelle. They had already reached the hallway to Hodge's old study, the heavy doors were closed. Sudden raised voices made them stop. Voices raised in anger could be heard from behind the heavy doors, which meant that the discussion was getting heated. Isabelle's eyes widened.

"That's mom and Jace."

Isabelle pressed herself against the door, black hair obscuring one side of her face. Clary stared for a moment before hissing:

"What are you doing?"

"Shhh."

Isabelle made a gesture with her hand. Clary looked around the hall, paranoid that someone would appear in seconds. She quickly went to Isabelle's side, pressing her ear tightly to the door. The wood was thick, the voices managing to sound soft even though they must be loud and tense from the other side. She could recognize Jace's voice; he sounded…pleading?

Clary shivered; what could be happening to make him sound so…vulnerable, or was it different? She couldn't tell what he was feeling and that bothered her more that she'd like to say. Then there was Maryse, whose voice sounded pinched, as though she was squeezing a live wire to some kind of terrible bomb. She didn't sound as though she was in much of a command of anything, which seemed out of character from what Clary had heard of her. The third voice was unrecognizable, but nevertheless sent shivers down Clary's spine.

"What are you doing?"

Clary jumped. She turned around. It was Alec, along with Sam and Dean. The three looked on at the two girls with varying degrees of amusement. Clary felt an all-consuming heat suddenly occupying her face. Mortified, she was unable to speak. Isabelle however, was unabashed. She made a shushing motion in annoyance.

"Hush. It's getting good."

Isabelle winked before turning her attention back to the door. The voices were starting to get louder; there wasn't a need to press an ear against the door anymore. The third voice had said something, and Jace responded. Clary could tell by his tone, that it was something snarky and possibly caustic. It was a familiar tone, and from the way the stranger responded, is was someone who wasn't tolerating it. They yelled, and Jace cut her off and Clay could actually here what he said:

"-I'll prove it. I'll take the Trial of the Sword."

Clary whirled to face Isabelle. The other girl had a strange expression on her face, and she had paled considerably.

"What is that?! What does he mean?! Isabelle!"

Clary grabbed Isabelle's shoulders roughly and had to repress the urge to shake her. Isabelle wouldn't look directly at her, but at something she couldn't see. Clary knew that Isabelle was just as worried as she was. Alec looked stunned. Sam and Dean looked confused, seemingly unaware of what exactly was going on, except that it was serious.

The third voice was speaking again, angry and haughty, and something…happy. A voice that Clary didn't want anywhere _near_ Jace. A sudden surge of protectiveness and indignation rose up in Clary like a heat wave. Ignoring everything else but the sound of her own heart hammering in her chest, Clary pushed the doors wide open with a bang.

The sound made everyone jump. Maryse looking shocked and angered, and Jace's face was completely drained of color, looking at Clary as though he had just fallen down a flight of stairs. He made a sort of strangled cry, when he probably wanted to say something. The stranger on the other hand, barely spared her a glance or at any of the others. She had been in the middle of speaking, and wasn't going to stop for anything.

"Just as arrogant as your father-"

She continued, stating Maryse's incompetence and possible disloyalty, including all of the Lightwoods in that category. Then she moved on to talk about the Law and their blatant disregard for it, the mercy of the Clave, and finally ending with Valentine's list of crimes.

"If you want to prove your worth, then a night in the Silent City would do you some good." her smile was terrible.

Maryse blanched. "Imogen-"

"Inquisitor!" she barked.

Jace was suddenly silent. At this, The Inquisitor's eyes gleamed with a dreadful triumph. Clary looked wildly at the faces in the room, trying gauge the situation. Isabelle was staring at her mother in something akin to horror. Alec however, was staring at Jace and the Inquisitor with a mixture of irritation and resignation.

"You see." the Inquisitor crowed, gesturing at Jace as if he were some kind of exotic animal. "Even someone like him will learn the lessons needed to be taught. The Silent City is doing its job already. Come here, Jonathan."

Jace walked forward slowly, almost like slow motion. The Inquisitor pulled out her stele.

"Jonathan Morgenstern. Until further notice you are suspended from duty and will stay in the Silent City until morning."

"Lucky me." Jace croaked.

"MOM." Isabelle spoke up. "Do something!"

Maryse just nodded her head at the Inquisitor, and the other woman made her way to the door.

"Mom-"

Maryse's face was taunt. "Isabelle be quiet."

"How can you do this?!" Clary suddenly shouted. "This is-"

"Clary." Jace's voice was pleading and angered simultaneously.

"You didn't do anything wrong! Just because Valentine is your father-"

"Which is exactly why The Clave wants to speak to him." The Inquisitor interrupted, her gaze frosting over Clary. "Unlike you, he was not lucky enough to escape his father's influence. Don't think that means you will be exempt. Wickedness runs in your family. I will be watching you." She turned back to Maryse. "I will be watching you as well; you have been in good standing so far, but I will not be deceived easily. This will not be tolerated anymore." She surprisingly turned to regard Sam and Dean. "Actions like letting these…people inside." She made clear how she thought of these people. "Who are?"

"Nobody." Dean spoke up quickly. "These people are leaving."

Sam nodded once to Maryse and the rest of the Lightwoods, and Dean gave a sympathetic look in Jace's direction before the two quickly strode down the hall. Clary shivered at the Inquisitor's callous glare, but it wasn't enough to stop her. She was ready to shout at this harpy woman.

"Clary." Jace directed. "It's ok, just leave it."

"No its not!"

"Be quiet you silly girl!" The Inquisitor shouted.

With a final dismissive glance, the Inquisitor gripped Jace's arm in a vice-like grip and bodily led him out of the room. Alec had tried to catch Jace's eye, but he didn't bother to turn around and look back at any of them. Clary took in the faces of Jace's family, each one a different kind of defeated. It just made her angrier.

"How could you?"

Anger actually made it difficult to speak, and their pale unresponsiveness just made her even more enraged. Isabelle's eyes looked oddly bright, but Clary didn't care enough to know why.

"You're his family! Why would you let that-that women take him away!" she shouted.

"He…shouldn't have mouthed off to The Inquisitor. That's why she-" Alec's voice was wooden, almost like he was reciting a piece of information.

"Mouthed off?" Clary was incredulous. "Who wouldn't mouth off to that-" no words seemed proper to describe the horrible woman, or were good enough for Clary.

"He is a solider, and she is high in the Clave's chain of command. It was a bad idea, and he should have known better-" Alec cut himself off.

"We know how you feel." Isabelle cut in. "It's that-"

"Enough." Maryse interrupted. "Clarissa its time you went home."

Clary looked at both Alec and Isabelle, unable to speak. She just couldn't understand; it must have been written on her face, but that wasn't enough for any of them. She drew in a shaky breath, and she really hoped that she wouldn't cry in front of them.

"Fine."

She cast one last look at the study, and her eyes found the desk with the angels carved on the bottom. Their faces contorted horribly, and Clary knew she didn't want to be in the room any longer. She raised her eyes back to Isabelle and Alec.

"Screw you." she put as much venom in her voice as possible.

She raced out of the Institute's doors as fast as she could.

SPNTMI

Dean slammed down the trunk of the Impala. He could see a bit of the imposing cathedral, but only if he squinted hard enough or looked out of the corner of his eye. It honestly gave him the creeps.

"Think we dodged a bullet."

Sam nodded. "They called her the Inquisitor; I think that sums it up nicely."

They climbed in and Dean started the ignition. As soon as they pulled out of the space, a shape hurtled past and Dean slammed on the brakes.

"Whoa!"

Sam unclenched his hands from their death grip on his seat and stared. The person who had darted out in front of them hadn't moved, and stood staring back.

"Red?" Dean called.

"Clary." Sam reminded.

"Right." Dean stuck his head out the window. "Need a ride?"

Clary seemed a little dazed. "Yeah sure, great thanks."

SPNTMI

Surprisingly, there were no jobs that they could see. Clary didn't seem inclined to go anywhere either.

"So…I take it was bad after we left?" Dean asked.

"Yeah."

Clary didn't seem like she was going to say anything more, but she surprised them by suddenly talking. She relayed the whole argument, and then explained that Jace was adopted by the Lightwoods. She had poured all her frustration into her story.

"And you're also his sister?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. I just found out recently. I thought I was just a normal only child, but now…" she paused, "I never realized how strange that is."

"I actually know what you mean." Dean replied.

"You do?" Clary looked hopeful.

"We had a half-brother named Adam." Sam supplied. "We didn't know about him until recently."

"Oh. Had?"

After a exchanging a look, Dean replied. "He died."

"Oh." Clary was shocked. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

Dean waved it off. "You didn't know."

"How was it that you were raised apart?" Sam asked, changing track.

Clary paused. "My…our parents split up, because mom didn't want to be around…Valentine."

She gave a hasty explanation on who Valentine was and what he did. There was a stunned silence when she was finished speaking, but Clary felt glad that she was shedding this story, that there was someone to tell it to who had no stake in the whole thing. She even felt lighter, ready to float up and away from that nightmare.

Dean whistled. "Still wanna hang around Shadowhunters?"

"Your job seems pretty dangerous too." she countered.

Dean made a shrugging motion, as if to say, _"To each their own."_

"So there really are no jobs?" Clary began cautiously.

"Yeah. Why?" Sam turned in the back seat, catching Clary's hesitant smile.

"Well…I could show you the city." Clary offered.

"Why not." Dean smiled.

Not bad for a day off.

SPNTMI

True to her word, Clary showed them around the city. She didn't take them on the tourist routes, but the more fun places. She showed them Pandemonium, explaining that it was a favorite haunt for Downworlders.

"Clubbing for monsters. Go figure." Dean muttered.

"New York really does have everything." Sam was half teasing, half amazed.

"You don't know the half of it." Clary laughed.

A few blocks later, Sam's phone rang. He quickly answered it.

"Hello?"

"_Sam." _An excited breathy voice replied. A voice he recognized.

Sam tried not to groan; Dean gave him a questioning glance.

"Becky. Hi."

Dean snorted with laughter, not stopping even when Sam shot him his darkest bitch face.

"_You remembered!" _she managed to be breathy and still squeal.

"Er…yes I did." Sam glanced back at Dean. "How did you get this number?"

"_It was in Chuck's phonebook." _

"…Oh, um well-" Sam floundered. "What did you need?" he cringed.

Apparently, this was all she needed. She giggled. _"Naughty! Well, remember at the convention, when we were talking? I didn't get a chance to tell you the rest of it-did you ever read the last book?" _she didn't wait for him to reply. _"Well at the end when Bela gave the colt back, she didn't give it to Lilith-"_

At this, Sam did cut her off. "Wait what?" Dean glanced up at the sharp tone.

"_She gave it to another demon named Crowley. I think it was because they were close or something-"_

"Wait hang on-"

Sam put the phone on speaker. "Ok go on."

"_So she gave the colt to Crowley, and there's even an address!"_

Sam quickly scribbled it down on an old napkin as Becky hurriedly recited it. "Thanks Becky."

Sam barely registered her chirrup of farewell before hanging up.

"So you've got a job?" Clary asked.

"Yeah."

"Sorry we gotta cut this short." Dean added.

"No its ok. You can drop me off here." Clary pointed to the street corner.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I can take the subway."

Clary slid out of the backseat with ease. Sam nodded to her, but Dean paused for a moment.

"If your brother means that much to you, then you should look after each other. Family makes its own rules."

He smiled at her and in that moment, he was lovelier that Jace could ever hope to be and then it vanished. He gave her a brief wave. Clary watched them speed off down the road. She gave them a small smile as they got smaller and smaller.

SPNTMI

"Think this is legit?" Dean asked.

"It's this or nothing." Sam replied.

"True."

Sam pulled out his phone again, dialing rapidly.

"Who you calling now?"

"Jo. We could use her help."

SPNTMI

It was twilight in Central Park and the children had already gone, and the next shift of bikers and joggers now used the paths. There were quite a number of people there, but there was one all by herself and she was the one that should be paid attention to.

She was here on a job. She flexed her pale fingers before balling them into fists. The iron in her pockets felt comfortable, as well as the slender stone that was hanging around her neck. She strode down the path, dark eyes searching out the secret places. She stepped off the path and went into the small woods that surrounded the park. Ignoring the couples that hidden themselves inside the tangled brambles, her arms pushed past the fading foliage. The light was fading fast, and she picked up her stride; her leather jacket kept the chill away, not that she needed it to.

A faint sound could be heard on the breeze. Pausing, her body strained to hear more. There it was: sweet notes that were occasionally pierced with a sour pang, like finding a nail in a featherbed. She grinned; she was on the right track.

It didn't take long after that. They were easy to spot once you knew where to look. Faeries. All shapes and sizes. Ones that were made of bark, little men with wicked looking teeth, and slender things that moved eerily. Their eyes were wild and feral, and gorgeous. There was nothing human about them.

She grinned, wider this time. So many to choose from and so little time. A woman faerie with hair made entirely out of vines brushed past her and she shivered. They didn't even smell human. She followed the vine woman and pushed past a patch of thorny rosebushes. A sudden tug and pull sensation told her she was now in a different place, and her body wriggled at the shift.

A plethora of faeries surrounded a small clearing. There was a banquet table in the center and it was bending under the weight of its contents. It was heaped with fruits in wild colors, roasted meat and figs, and black water was being served in pale goblets.

Music was being played on harps with strings that were probably unpleasant things; that made her smile. The musicians were lounging on rugs and pillows that seemed to be made from human hair, and tiny sprites darted around in the branches above them, sparkling in time to the beat.

She scanned for a face. So many faces. Faces like foxes, and birds, and bark. Dresses spun from cobwebs, and leaves that still held dewdrops. Everything looked so fragile, and fleetingly pretty; even though she knew that applied more to humans than anything else. These creatures were vivid and timeless.

"Your glamour is strange. Are you one of us?" a voice asked.

She turned. She had no idea what kind of a faerie he was, but from a sudden pulse at her throat, she knew his age.

"What a question. What does make a human?"

The answer seemed to please him, and when he smiled his teeth were all points, like bone. He plucked a fruit from the table and handed it to her. It was pale, and the pit was visible beneath. It was soft and smooth and smelled sweet. Well there has never been a fruit not worth eating, and she bit into it.

She moaned in delight. It was meaty, a chunk of it slid down her throat; the smoky, spicy taste reminded her of home. Her eyelids fluttered rapidly as she sucked the pulp down. When she held the black pit in her hand she quickly bit into it. The earthy, bitter flavor burst in her mouth and she longed for more

Suddenly the music was sweeter, and she loved the bitter piercing tone that unexpectedly shot through the song. She swayed to it, feeling herself drown in it. She turned to the fey boy. His eyes were the color of raspberries and when he licked his lips, his tongue was black. She never wanted to leave; the stone pulsed at her throat and it seemed to drive needles into her neck in warning. She looked at him and could feel her smile become slow and liquid.

"Come walk with me."

He led her to a small path, and she hummed in time to the leaves rustling at their feet. The boy stopped once they were under a dogwood tree, its bark gleaming darkly. He sat beneath it, and his smile was terrible and handsome all at once. She sauntered to him, pressing herself onto the cold crushed grass next to him.

"Riddle prettily for me."

His slim fingers wound themselves into her hair; she purred when his claws struck her scalp. She burrowed into his skin, and he laughed.

"Hmmm, let's see. What makes one human?" she recited. "Go to a place with sulfur sunsets and see how well you fare."

He hummed appreciatively as his teeth nipped her lips, sending spasms throughout her body. She let her fingers graze her jeans as lightly as she could, just so she could give herself a little bit of torture. She had effectively pinned the fey boy beneath her, and his otherworldly heat competed with hers. She reached into her pocket, and felt the cold, reassuring weight inside.

"Mary Mary quite contrary." She growled.

She let her lips crash down on his, feeling his laughter rumble up into her throat. She felt the cold bar in her hand, and she brought it closer. Giving one last plunging kiss, she made her move. He didn't see it coming; she moved her mouth a fraction away from his and replaced it with a bar of iron. His shriek of pained surprise was quickly cut off. Growling, she threw all of her weight onto him, one hand pressed over his mouth and nose. He could not spit the iron out, and his eyes bulged as he could no longer get any air. His chest heaved up and down like prey. She took one look at his terror stricken face and laughed.

It was a high pitched laugh that pierced the air and could cut frost. She laughed long and loud. His body was now in the death throes, but he was still aware. She giggled, and bucked her hips to match his spasms. He finally went still, she sighed and the wind sprayed down the petals of the tree, sending them fluttering down onto the ground, into her hair, and on the faerie corpse.

She bent down to see his face, swollen from choking and eyes still open. His expression was rigid with shock. She nuzzled his neck before moving to get up. She ran a hand through her tousled curls, letting the air cool her nape.

"Thanks for the party."

She stood up and hauled his body up and over her shoulder like a sack of meat, and walked back onto the path.

Meg wondered which shortcut she should take.

SPNTMI

Jace sat in his cell, letting his vision adjust and he shifted to get more comfortable. He felt another traitorous thudding of unease; his breathing would not settle. Shadows danced on the walls, turning into shapes, and inched closer to him. Jace jumped, before shifting in shame; no one was here to see him behave like a coward, but still…

Shivering, he wrapped his arms around himself as far as his manacles would allow. Jace was led down here by The Inquisitor herself, but now he only had the company of The Silent Brothers and the dead Nephilim that were cremated and laid to rest in the mausoleum. Nothing to fear, but the feeling wouldn't subside.

'_It's only for one night.' _he reasoned.

This would be simple; the easiest thing he had done in a long time. He sighed; he wanted to say something to break the silence, but somehow that seemed blasphemous. He was still Nephilim and this was a part of his path, being afraid was unbecoming of a warrior.

'_Just what daddy taught.' _

A high piercing scream rent the air. Jace jumped, his manacles jangled warily and they chafed at his skin. He gasped in pain, but quickly stifled it. Every instinct in him screamed at him to stay quiet, to not move, and hope that whatever it was did not come near him. More screams shot through the walls, bouncing down the darkened corridors. Almost like ghosts talking to each other, repeating the horrors that had been done to them. Jace's teeth chattered, clacking together like mocking laughter.

'_Get it together.' _

He shuddered when another set of screams ran amok; screams of people who were unused to terror, the voices climbing higher and higher. As if the screams were being ripped out of them with such terrible violence that Jace flinched. Each sharp cry made him jump and rock back and forth. The screams belonged to the Silent Brothers. People who hadn't uttered a sound in years were suddenly crying out. They were terrified.

'_There is nothing to fear from the City of Bones, so it must be something external. Something must have gotten in.' _Jace inhaled sharply. _'But what could it be?!' _

His heart was pounding hard enough to hurt, and his vision started to spot and blur. He never felt this way before, and he longed to drown out the sounds assaulting his ears. He couldn't picture what was causing the panic, but he could picture the panic itself well enough. Faces contorted with pain and fear swam up in his vision as the threat of…some kind of violence was being carried out.

A shadow leapt out and Jace shouted. Was that the sound of footsteps just now? The faint tinkling of laughter. He gritted his teeth, feeling his body shrink back into a corner. He bit his lips to prevent himself from whimpering and tasted blood. More shadows moved, as if they were running away. Something was groaning and wheezing, dragging its feet.

Jace was shaking, eyes wildly searching for anything that could be a weapon. It came into view, and a low moaning came out. It took him a minute to realize it was coming from him and Jace flushed with shame. It came into full view and staggered, clutching its chest. It was a Silent Brother-

Jeremiah!

He suddenly pitched, like being pushed down a flight of stairs. He hit the ground with a loud thump, like a sack of meat. Blood was welling and his mouth was a too full cup, its contents pouring out. It was coming towards him, and a deep throated giggling _was _coming from the end of the hall; it announced the arrival of the blood that was flowing towards Jace's feet. He scrambled to get away from it; it was the only color in the room.

The door was creaking open, and a tiny smidgen of light came from the cracks, deepening the shadows. Jace knew it was witchlight, but the brightness was hurting his eyes, and sending him reeling. The door was groaning and the giggling turned to singsong.

Jace could no longer breathe properly; things were just behind that door and only rusted iron bars stood between him and pain. His hands went to his chest; and he had the crazy thought that his heart might pop out and bounce away.

The noises stopped, and a figure came out from behind the door like some boogeyman from a childhood nightmare. The person didn't look like anything; Jace's mind couldn't focus on any details, except for one thing-

The person's eyes were jet black.

No color, pupil, or iris, just two pits. Jace stuck a fist into his mouth to keep from screaming. When the person smiled, Jace all but shrieked.

"Found ya."

Its voice carried down into the hall, repeating itself down the bloodstained passage way. It gripped a witchlight stone hard, letting the light bleach the world into clarity. Jace shivered as a second set of witchlight began to correspond with the already present light. Someone else was coming.

'_What now?!' _Jace wanted to wail.

The door creaked further as the second, larger figure came into view. This one was familiar, but that didn't help. It was Valentine.

"Thank you." he addressed it, before turning to Jace. "Jonathan."

The witchlight was making him tear up, and he'd be damned if he would whimper in front of them. Valentine bent down to Jace's level and was searching his face intently, and Jace shied away from the scrutiny. He wanted to stand tall and meet his father's gaze evenly, but he simply couldn't do it. Every muscle in his body shook and screamed.

"Who put you in here? The Lightwoods?" Valentine's voice was soft and there was anger.

Jace tried not to whimper. At the sound of that voice, he was a small boy again, playing on their front lawn and waiting to be scooped up into Valentine's arms. Even the fact that Valentine was angry on his behalf was enough to make him mewl in gratitude. He didn't want to feel this way.

"The Inquisitor." Jace managed to gasp.

Valentine made an ugly expression but smoothed into something else. "I see. So the Clave no longer trusts you."

"No thanks to you."

"It would have happened either way. The Clave is corrupt, and anyone willing to defy it is summarily destroyed."

'_Then you aren't that different after all.' _He gritted his teeth.

Valentine somehow looked gentle. "Unfortunately, I cannot trust you yet. I would like to, but since you are still so closely tied with those who want to destroy me, I cannot."

"Well don't worry, I don't trust you either." Jace willed his voice not to tremble.

Valentine smiled. "I have found a way to defeat the Clave."

Jace's eyes widened. He finally noticed the thickly strapped weapon across Valentine's back. A sword and one that looked familiar. Valentine noticed where Jace's gaze had gone. He pulled the blade out of its sheath; it made an impressive ringing when released. It was a huge sword, its hilt in the shape of a pair of outstretched wings. It thrummed with power and Jace shivered.

"Is that…?"

"Maellartach." Valentine's voice was filled with awe. "When you are ready for this and what I stand for, then you will find me."

The person with the black eyes looked up, startled. "Hey-they're here."

"Ah, yes thank you." Valentine re-sheathed the sword. "Well until we meet again."

Valentine turned his back on Jace and went to leave. Jace's heart sped up again, and he nearly screamed, but instead-

"Wait-just unchain me at least!" he shouted. "Can't you do that for me at least?!"

"That wouldn't do you any good." He followed the black eyed person. "Goodbye Jonathan."

SPNTMI

Clary's cell phone rang. She looked at the caller ID, Simon's name glowing on the screen. She waited a few moments before flipping it open.

"Yeah."

"_Hey. I've been trying to reach you all day." _

"Oh yeah, I've kept it off all day. I've actually spent the day with Sam and Dean."

"_Those two guys that spent the night at the Institute?" _

"Yup."

Clary filled him in on the day's events.

"_What?! Holy crap. Guess I missed an important day. Wow, I actually feel sorry for Jace." _

"Simon."

"_Well fine, but that Inquisitor lady sounds kinda bonkers. Better stay outta her way."_

"No problems there, but I've got a bad feeling…"

"_Same here. You said she represents the Clave. You sure you wanna keep hanging around-"_

"Yes." Clary kept her voice firm. "There is something I want to tell you. I'm gonna bust Jace out." she heard Simon's sharp intake of breath.

"_No way. Really?"_

Clary thought back on Dean's parting words. "Yeah."

"_Wait, tell me where you are. I'll meet you there, and we'll go together."_

Clary hesitated. "No. It's fine."

"_Figures." _He sounded resigned, and a bit of something else.

"What does-wait never mind. I'll see you soon."

"_I better. Later."_

SPNTMI

Clary stood on the front steps of the Institute, brass knocker heavy in her hand. She took a shuddery breath; she had every right to be here!

"I am Clarissa Morgenstern, one of the Nephilim and I ask permission for entrance-"

No sooner than the words left her mouth did the doors fly open. Clary jumped back in surprise before striding into the doorway and down the aisles of pews. She pulled the elevator doors open and stepped inside. Getting inside to the marble foyer was easy, and she was glad that she remembered where Isabelle's room was. She stood outside Isabelle's door, anxiety roiling in her stomach; she hoped that she wasn't too upset from their last conversation. She knocked on the door, nerves making the sound jangle.

"Isabelle, you there?"

Clary thought that maybe no one heard her, but suddenly the door was yanked open.

"Clary?!" Isabelle's face was a portrait of shock. "What are you doing here?"

Clary winced. "…I'm sorry. About earlier today." she hesitated. "Can I come in?"

Isabelle suddenly looked drawn. "Yeah. Alright."

Isabelle swung her down open and Clary rushed in. It was as she remembered it. Clothes strewn in tandem with weapons and girly products littered her dresser drawer. The same wallpaper was in place, making it Isabelle's. It was entirely hers, and Clary felt an unexpected rush of affection.

"I came to say I'm sorry."

"Well that's all well and good." Isabelle replied, then seeing Clary's expression, added. "It's fine. We're good; I'm not surprised you reacted like that."

Clary looked around. Alec and Cas were in the room also. This seemed unusual, but that was probably ideal for what Clary wanted to do.

"There's something else." she hesitated.

"There always is with you." Isabelle groaned.

Clary made a disbelieving noise.

"She is right." Alec put in.

"I'm going to get Jace."

This was met with disbelieving looks. Clary wasn't going to waver, and she stood straighter.

"I know that Jace is pretty much a solider and he did something wrong-" she put air quotes on the word wrong, "but he is in trouble, I just know it. Besides, he shouldn't be in there anyway." She looked intently at them. "I only came back to see if you guys wanted to help."

Alec looked ready to say something, but a sudden ringing stopped him.

"Who is that now?" snapped Isabelle.

"What is that?" Clary asked.

"It's a phone." Alec explained, then clarifying, "Well obviously, I mean for calls for when we are needed. Where we're supposed to go and such." He followed Isabelle. "So someone needs help."

They all made to follow Isabelle into the study, but she was too quick and was back before they could get into the room. She looked tense; her whole body was ready for a fight.

"Well Clary I guess you got lucky. I just got a call from the Silent City. Something has attacked the Silent Brothers, but the details are sketchy."

Alec was all business. "Who is available for this?"

Isabelle's face was grim. "Just us."

Alec made a shrugging motion. "Then we have to go."

She nodded. "Alright then."

Clary was glad that she brought her stele, and she wondered if they were going to have to wear fighting gear.

"You can't-"

"I can and I will." Clary frowned. "Jace is my brother. So I will come with you."

"I will accompany you also." Cas suddenly put in.

"No-"

"I insist." his voice was firm and his gaze intense.

"Let him." Isabelle snapped. "We need to move fast. Clary, did you bring your stele?"

"Of course."

SPNTMI

Dean led Sam and Jo down the lawn. Both flanked him silently. They had dispatched the guards at the front of the iron wrought gates and then hung back in the darkness. They were looking for a less conspicuous entrance, and when the clouds ghosted away from the moon and illuminated the ground. The soft light filtered down on their hair and eyes, making them shine. Dean stopped, raising his hand in warning. Sam and Jo halted and looked warily around. Dean pointed to a set of stairs that led down to an out of the way wooden door. He led them down the steps and Sam brushed past him to pick the lock.

The door barely made a sound and they crept inside. From the slivers of moonlight showed that they were inside a wine cellar. Dean made a face and pulled a bottle out of the rack. He made a punch line with his expression. Sam frowned disapprovingly and Dean reluctantly put it back. Jo nudged the both boys and ducked her head in the direction of another door.

Sam and Dean shared a look before pulling out their guns. This door was unlocked and behind them was a set of narrow stairs that led up to a hallway. They had no choice but to go up them single file. The stairs creaked nervously beneath them, as if warning against their intrusion. With Dean and the lead, Jo behind him, and Sam bringing up the rear they made good time. The place seemed empty.

It was a well-furnished place, with furniture gleaming in the dark. They were all mahogany and velvet, with paintings that were framed heavily with ornate designs. Every piece looked well taken care of and as if they had been painstakingly hunted down.

"_Nice digs." _Dean mouthed.

Jo rolled her eyes in response and Sam shushed them with his hands. Music was floating up from another room. It wasn't hard to find; it was a good song, and it led them straight to him. The door was wide open and they could see a figure, with its-or his back to them. Dean nodded to the two and raised his gun a little higher. The music suddenly cut off, and the trio tensed. The man suddenly sat up straighter. He set down the drink he was holding.

"Well it's about time." his voice managed to be both smooth and gravelly. "Do you know how long I've had to wait for you?"

"Crowley." Dean grimaced.

Crowley smiled. "A pleasure, etc etc."

Sam lifted his knife and Crowley raised his hands in mock surrender. The blade glinted menacingly, its inscription easily seen. Crowley eyed the blade with a cool distaste.

"I assume you want the Colt?"

The boys looked briefly surprised before smoothing their expressions into something grimmer.

"It'd be a good idea to just give it to us." Sam let the blade shimmer.

Crowley appeared to consider this. "True. Unfortunately, I do not have it on me."

"That's a shame." Sam moved to attack.

Jo grabbed his arm. "Wait." she turned to Crowley. "So the gun hasn't been melted down?"

"Of course not, since I was the one who started the rumors in the first place."

"Why?" Dean was baffled.

Crowley seemed to think this was a stupid question. "So you would be the only ones to get your hands on it."

This confused the three of them. "What, why?" Dean asked.

"So you can use it against Satan, the big man himself."

"That makes no sense." Sam put in. "You're a demon too-"

"Oh, I forgot-I'm speaking to idiots."

Dean made a disparaging noise. "You're an idiot…idiot."

Jo rolled her eyes again. "Then humor us. Why?"

"Self-preservation. Lucifer is an angel. Once he is finished destroying humanity, who do you think he will move onto next?"

"But…he made demons." Dean pointed out.

"We're just cannon fodder, just the grunts on the ground. We all used to be humans once, but made even worse-" he gave a deprecating smile. "He has no respect for those he corrupts."

"So this is-" Sam began.

"Oh boo hoo-what exactly do you want us to do about it?" Dean asked snappishly.

"I _want _you take the colt and shoot dear old Lucifer." he gave them a wicked smile. "Try not to miss."

"If you don't have it, then where is it?" Sam asked, still suspicious.

"With the Faerie Queen." Crowley replied, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Huh?" Dean gaped.

"She lives in New York." He said this with a straight face, and then elaborated. "Well, there is an entrance to her court in New York City."

"H-how? Faeries are real? Really?" Sam was skeptical, but more than that, he was incredulous.

"Of course." Crowley looked at the three hunters. "Why is this so hard to believe?"

"Um maybe because it sounds crazy." Dean replied.

"There are many things you haven't encountered before. Doesn't make them less real." Crowley countered.

Sam nudged Dean. "He does have a point." he gave his brother a meaningful look.

"Ok, so where is this Queen?" Dean asked.

"Silarial is the Queen of the Seelie Court. One of the entrances to her court is in New York City, central park to be exact."

"Of course." Sam deadpanned.

"Just one question." Dean asked.

"Hmm?"

"Why give a gun to a fairy?"

Crowley held up two fingers. "One, we have worked out an arrangement, just mention my name and what you want and she'll give it to you. Two, iron is deadly to the Fair Folk."

Jo slapped her fist against her other palm. "So even if someone else figures out the colt still works, they won't know where to get it, and since you're the only one who knows where it really is, they can't kill you to figure it out. I bet if the Queen ever tries to betray you, she won't be able to use it against you."

"You don't seem to be as dim as the wonder twins."

Jo was undaunted. "I like to think its cuz' of my hair."

"If you're trying to trick us-" Sam's voice became deadly.

"You'll know where to find me." Crowley cut in smoothly.

SPNTMI

The three strode back to the Impala, their shoes crunched on the gravel as they hurried away from the stone home. None of them put their weapons away, even though they met no demons on the way.

"Do you think he was lying?" asked Sam.

"Like you heard, whatever happens, we know where to find him." Dean replied.

They packed up the trunk and began to climb in. Dean was looking thoughtful as he turned the ignition.

"Although I think that those Shadowhunters are more credible now."

Jo leaned forward from the backseat. "Wait I haven't heard this."

Sam twisted in his seat and gave her a quick rundown. Jo' eyes widened and she whistled. Dean pulled out his cell phone.

"Who are you calling?" Sam asked.

"Bobby. He probably knows something." He moved his mouth away from the receiver. "They called them the Fair Folk right?"

"Yeah."

Jo turned back to Sam, half listening to Dean greeting Bobby. "So faeries really are real?"

"Sure looks like it."

"Hang on." Dean said, putting the phone on speaker. "Ok, say what?"

"_So you Idjits wanna tangle with the Fair Folk?" _

"What can I say; we just love to do things the hard way." Dean replied.

"Hey Bobby." Sam greeted. "We got a lead on the colt. Apparently it's with the Seelie Faerie Queen."

Bobby cursed. _"Well that's great. Do you have any idea what we're dealing with?!" _

"Umm, Tinkerbelle?"

"_Boy." _Bobby's voice wiped the smile from Dean's face. _"The lore of the Folk is old, and none of it pretty." _

"When is it ever?" Sam replied. "Lay it on us Bobby."

SPNTMI

Castiel followed the Shadowhunter children down the steps into the Silent City. His ears popped of their own accord; the body knew that it was entering a place that was pocketed away from the rest of the city. He was confused; the identity of Shadowhunters was a baffling mystery to him, and one he was determined to solve. A fluttering aura was permeating the atmosphere. It was strong in the Silent City, as if the inhabitants had made it that way, or maybe it was the other way around.

Isabelle was in the lead, with Clary close behind her. Alec was flanking them, but Castiel was bringing up the rear. They moved haltingly, the light was dim and scattered. Castiel could see fine, but he knew the other three could not. They used their witchlight stones, the light looking familiar to his eyes. It was almost angelic, but he wasn't sure how that could be possible. Their lights flared, casting stark shadows across the vast room, and gave a small fizz as they did so.

He could see the large marble slabs; they seemed to give some sort of energy, as though they were alive somehow; it gave him an errant thought that it could be a spell of some sort, after all there were some power in the bones of saints…

"Where are the cells?" Clary asked.

This snapped Castiel out of his reverie. He banished the stray question of why he was thinking of such specific spells, when he noticed the smell. Alec wrinkled his nose.

"On the level below us. Does anyone notice that smell?" Alec asked.

"I do." Castiel replied.

Their small group didn't pause, and they entered a pavilion with a glittering canopy. It served as an entrance to an elaborate room. The room was high with a domed ceiling, and had circular benches that kept rising up, stairs in between them. There were slender poles that held witchlight at their tops, and they stood at every corner. Their light was doused however, and it made the children squint. The floor had a mosaic of an angel rising upwards. Castiel felt his heartbeat rise and heard his sudden intake of breath.

"What is this place?" he looked around.

He noticed the ceiling had glimmering a light, giving the impression that one was looking at a swathed starry sky. Behind the highest row of benches stood a fixed holder; it was mounted on the wall and had the indentations of a…sword. It was no longer there, but it still emanated power. Castiel strode over to it, hearing his question being answered by Clary.

"They call this the Speaking Stars; it's where the Silent Brothers hold meetings. I've been here before but-" she cut herself off with a grimace of disgust. "Seriously, what is that _smell?_"

Castiel didn't answer, but he already identified the scent. It was the smell of rotting bodies. Something else was more pressing: they were killed by something dark. He sensed the same darkness when he first met the Shadowhunter children when he killed the creature they were fighting. He felt his wings shudder in irritation; he couldn't understand why it brought out such a heady surge of violence in him, but he wanted to figure out the Shadowhunters more so.

Castiel put his fingertips to the indentations of where a sword had been held, and-he gasped. A sudden jolt went through him, flooding his body. His wings shuddered, longing to get free as nostalgia overcame him.

'_This power…' _

A flash went through him, like a memory, although it was not his own. He saw, actually saw it. It came before his eyes like a film reel scene. An angel had once wielded the sword that hung on the wall. An angel that was full of righteous fire, and was impaling a creature similar to the one Castiel had recently encountered. Was it Michael? The angel's grace felt familiar, and Castiel felt his own grace respond to the memory of power.

'_Amazing. How did an angelic sword end up here of all places?' _

Castiel turned to regard the children, the memory fading from his eyes as they powered the witchlight stones to burn brighter. They shouted; bodies were being illuminated. The one nearest to them was impaled on one of the light poles, as though it was some type of greeting to them. Blood was everywhere. Coming out of mouths, ears, and noses. It streaked the walls, dripped onto the ground, and poured and puddled underneath their feet.

The Silent Brothers faces were contorted horribly, wearing obvious expressions of terror. Rigor had already set in, their hands stone-like and clutching their chests. The three took out their weapons, but Castiel bent down to examine the bodies. He ignored the disturbed cries of the Shadowhunters; he couldn't blame them.

He searched intently at the face of the nearest Silent Brother. Strange markings were all over the body. They weren't exactly Enochian in script, but it was similar enough to confuse Castiel and he even felt his grace stutter in response. Almost as if it was recalling something. He felt his resolve hardening. The rest of the body was pale, and the stitches from the mouth were fluttering open. The smaller details were ones he hadn't paid much attention to after seeing the strange markings on the body. They weren't entirely dissimilar to the ones he saw on the Shadowhunter children, but seemed to speak a different form of the language. Castiel guessed that they served a different purpose.

'_The Silent Brothers seemed to be a different sect of Shadowhunters.' _

"Why did this happen?" Alec asked.

"Perhaps because those creatures attacked." Castiel replied absently.

"You mean demons?" Clary asked.

Castiel frowned. "Those creatures are not demons."

"And you know this because you are an angel?" Isabelle asked somewhat testily.

"Yes." Castiel deadpanned. "I _am_ an angel of the Lord."

This was met with sounds of disbelief, anxiety, and irritation. Castiel sensed this might have something to do with the murdered men that surrounded them. He sighed; he didn't think he was irritated. Castiel was reminded of Dean, when they first met and of the man's expression when first locked eyes. Hard green eyes that held pain and determination, and loyalty…

"Umm guys we need to get to Jace." Clary put in with quiet urgency.

Inspired, Castiel stood back from them and closed his eyes. Pulling in energy, his grace thrummed happily in the surroundings and he let it guide him. The witchlight seemed to glow in response and got brighter; the air seemed to vibrate. Castiel heard the gasps from the children and he wanted to pull in their energy, the energy inside them that made his grace flutter and want to mingle with…whatever it was. He frowned in momentary confusion. They did not have grace, and they seemed incomplete because of that. So by all rights, his grace shouldn't be reacting in such a way; he never felt that way around human beings before. Castiel even felt saddened that he couldn't interact with them in such a way. He pushed that emotion aside and concentrated.

He felt his vessel's body ripple. The muscles contracting in a way that was both painful and pleasurable. Castiel vaguely noted this as he felt his wings began to unfold. He smiled; it felt comfortable to unsheathe his wings, almost like stretching after a long nap. Shadows and light played against each other against the walls, and Castiel made sure that it was enough so that his wings could be seen without hurting the children. He let the shadows give depth to his wings, and he knew he couldn't do much else. Revealing anymore would be careless…and harmful.

He opened his eyes, and smiled. They were all staring at him. With wide eyes and rigid, awe-struck expressions. Something akin to fear and they were frozen. Castiel folded his wings back, and let them rest inside. The lights dimmed back and the shadows settled, tamed again. He gestured to the missing sword's placeholder.

Alec's eyes widened even more. "The sword-it's gone."

"By the Angel." Isabelle breathed.

Castiel tilted his head. That was an unusual expression. His eyes met with Clary's. She seemed frozen, but somehow was in distracted thought, as if woken up from deep thought. Her eyes were green, but very different than Dean's, but somehow, in a way, he was reminded of Dean.

"Wait." she startled. "If the sword is gone. I bet it was Valentine."

Her words made the Lightwood siblings freeze, turning to look at Clary.

"Valentine took it, and if he was here than- Jace, we have to get him!" She shouted.

Clary took off at a run, her steps echoing loudly. Isabelle and Alec shouted after her, and hurried to catch up. Castiel gave the room one final look before following them. His stride quickly matching pace with Clary's. They raced to the lower level, pushing past the door. It slammed wide open.

"Jace, are you in here?!" Clary shouted.

"…Clary, is that you?" a voice croaked.

"Yeah."

Castiel watched Clary pull out a slim object and it seemed to glow with determination. She studied the bars to Jace's cell for a moment.

"Stand back."

She took the object in her hand and pressed it against the bars. She made a…drawing motion. It was a strange, wild gesture. Castiel could have sworn she just written a word. It said _'Open.' _The bars groaned in protest before bending and snapping. It resisted briefly before breaking apart and the pieces flew in all directions. Castiel shifted to avoid being hit. He heard the faint click of metal unlocking and Clary rushed into the cell.

"Jace!"

Alec and Isabelle rushed into the room. They cried out, and circled by the blasted open cell. They only gave Castiel a brief looks before walking into the cell. Castiel tilted his head as he watched Alec and Clary take a side next to Jace and lifted him up. Isabelle had taken out her own slender object and was moving it across Jace's skin. It was as though it was a pencil and Jace's skin was mere paper.

A faint, tracing burn could be seen on Jace's skin, and Castiel felt a minor thrill of power even from his distance. The marking looked similar to Enochian and Castiel could _read_ it; angels never suffered from language barriers, but its resemblance to the angelic language was somewhat off putting. He didn't know why; Castiel was getting entranced by the swirling lines that seemed comfortable and minor. Nothing that could match him, but…

"Let's get outta here." Isabelle said. "We have to inform the Clave.

"We've got you Jace." Clary softly murmured.

"Let's go." Alec grunted.

They hurried to leave behind the stench of bodies and the broken, dancing light.

SPNTMI

"I'm coming with you."

Jo's voice was firm. Dean glanced at Sam, and looked back at Jo.

"This is-"

"I know. It'll be dangerous, but I can handle it." she smiled.

"Figured you'd say that."

Jo just grinned. She looked at both of them expectantly.

"So what's the next step? Where do we find the Queen?" she asked.

"Well, we could try hills, or anything with water." Sam suggested. "Or leave something out for faeries to find."

"Yay." Dean tried to amend his reply. "Well, we could give them a dead baby."

Sam made a face. "Dean."

"What?" he turned to look at Sam and Jo briefly before looking back at the road. "From what Bobby said, they might actually like that."

Sam appeared to agree. "Still."

Jo looked thoughtful. "What about those Shadowhunter people? Can we get in touch with them and see if they can hook us up?"

"I bet they can." Sam mused, if somewhat unhappily.

Dean was also reluctant. "Yeah, but they didn't exactly roll out the welcome wagon."

"We could try Cas." Sam pointed out.

This seemed to cheer Dean up. "There is that." he pulled out his cell phone.

SPNTMI

Castiel watched Isabelle push open the entrance. He blinked; he was aware of the presence of many more Shadowhunters, even before stepping out into the night air. Clary inhaled sharply. Castiel set his feet onto the grass and peered at the faces staring back at them. More than a dozen men and women wearing black encircled them. They carried witchlight stones with them, letting the light blaze and leave nothing hidden. Castiel read their aggression, and wondered what it was that made them so defensive.

"Wait!" a voice called out. "Those are my children!"

"Mom?" Isabelle called back.

The crowd shifted and murmured. Isabelle's mother looked ready to stride to their side; her eyes widened when she noticed Jace. She was pulled back by another woman with cold, hawk-like features, and Castiel was struck by the aura of deep pain that surrounded her.

"Explain this immediately!" the hawk woman shouted.

Jace groaned at the sound of her voice.

"Inquisitor…" Alec began.

"What is he doing out of the Silent City?!"

Clay stared at the Inquisitor incredulously. "You can't be serious-"

Alec cut her off. "The Silent Brothers are dead."

A ripple of sound and unease went through the crowd. The suspicious glares intensified. Castiel watched a young woman with silver hair stare intently at Clary before he turned his gaze back to Alec and the Inquisitor. Said Inquisitor look ready to barrage them with another round of questions.

"The Soul-Sword has been stolen as well."

'_So that's what they call it. ' _

"By Valentine?" Isabelle's mother, Maryse asked.

The Inquisitor scoffed. "Of course. I imagine he was aided by his son."

"That's ridiculous!" shouted Clary. "Look at him!"

Jace's breathing had become labored, and if he wasn't being held up, he would have sunken to the ground already. His face was devoid of color, eyes glassy. He seemed to have a hard time focusing.

"Valentine must have heard that his son was inside the Silent City when he made to steal the sword." The Inquisitor said. "He knew Jonathan would be there and planned accordingly."

"Doubt it." Jace rasped. "He doesn't care about me, he just wanted the sword."

"Ridiculous, the sword can only perform one function: to determine a Shadowhunters' honesty. Obviously Valentine would have no need of such an object."

Castiel was about to tell her that the sword could do much more than that but was stopped by a fierce glare from Isabelle; his intent must have been plain. He had a strange wish not be scrutinized too deeply by such a large crowd.

"It is a powerful object; he must have desired it simply because it was so. Maybe with the added satisfaction that he has taken something important from us. To say there is nothing we can keep from him." Maryse pointed out, not unreasonably.

Jace wheezed again and Clary and the Lightwoods seemed to flinch at the sound.

"He needs help!"

This seemed to irritate the Inquisitor, as if Jace was merely inconvenient and just spoiling her plans out of spite. She shook her head irritably. She waved her hands dismissively.

"He'll be fine." Her gaze rested on the children and Castiel. "Furthermore, I assume you came all this way just to take him out of what you all consider an unjust punishment."

"No." Alec spoke up, his voice firm. "We came because we got a distress call from the Silent City. No one else answered it. We were merely doing our jobs. What I would like to know is where everyone else was?"

Maryse answered. "We got a call ourselves. A fey child was murdered in Central Park. It was so similar to the death of the warlock boy that-"

"That we assumed it was urgent. This has trap written all over it. Valentine murders a Downworlder and we are sent out, meanwhile he is actually elsewhere, stealing a prized possession! A trap. And we walked right into it."

"That is a likely explanation." Castiel put in.

The Inquisitor's eyes narrowed to slits.

"Who are you?"

"He is a friend of Magnus's." Alec replied hastily.

"Magnus Bane the warlock?" she didn't seem to believe it.

"High Warlock of Brooklyn." On anyone else the answer might have seemed smarmy, but Alec was earnest.

The Inquisitor shook her head, like she was trying to get rid of a fly. "Very well."

She made a motion for the Shadowhunters to move. They glided past the small group and down into the steps of the Silent City. Only the silver haired woman turned back to look at them, and she locked eyes with Clary before she followed the others. Alec flipped out his cell phone and began typing on it hurriedly. The Inquisitor turned back to Jace, lip curled in distaste.

"What to do with you now? I will not have you returning to the Institute when your name hasn't even by cleared yet."

"He could stay with Clarissa. She is his sister." Maryse suggested somewhat reluctantly.

"…No…" Jace moaned.

Clary looked at Jace with a wounded expression. She looked back at the two women angrily.

"He needs help, not an interrogation!" she shouted.

Alec's cell phone beeped unexpectedly, startling them all. He began playing with the phone, fingers flying over the keys. Both Maryse and Isabelle gave him disbelieving looks, seemingly wondering what he was doing at a time like this. He looked back at the women, surprised at their gaping scrutiny.

"I have a suggestion." he spoke up. "Jace could be housed in the home of Magnus Bane."

Both the Inquisitor and Maryse raised their eyebrows.

"Of course." was the acidic reply from the Inquisitor.

"But that-"

"Can easily be arranged." A new voice spoke up.

A tall thin man with spiked multicolored hair strode into the clearing. He wore an old fashioned looking coat, and tight black pants. His face was painted in an array of colors. His eyes were a green-gold and had the pupils of a cat. Castiel thought he was the strangest person he had ever seen, but that wasn't what made a chill go through him. It was the strange aura that he had. It was the same as the creature that Castiel had fought. Well, not quite the same, but in a similar group. It was faint and covered. Like dust beneath a bed. It made his grace rise and his wings flurry in agitation. Castiel could sense the humanity next to it, and the buzz of energy inside that seemed to be a natural extension of the man's overall being. There was no malice in his eyes, so Castiel forced himself to relax.

Magnus seemed to sense the scrutiny, but he gave Castiel a brief wink in greeting and turned to the Inquisitor and Maryse.

"How-?" Maryse asked.

Alec waved his phone somewhat sheepishly.

"I thought we could use his help, since he'd be a neutral party in this."

Magnus inclined his head. "I'd be happy to help. For a fee of course."

"Of course." the Inquisitor echoed.

"Discount rate."

Maryse stepped forward to Magnus. She began to settle a price and the two set the terms of the contract. Castiel watched as Jace was hauled up and the girls and Alec made their way to Magnus's side. Magnus greeted Jace cheerfully before giving a meaningful look to Alec and then a questioning one to Castiel. The Inquisitor gripped Maryse's arm. The two strode off without another word. Just as it seemed everyone was about to leave, Castiel's phone rang.

SPNTMI

"_Dean." _

"Hey. We got a lead on the colt."

"_I may have something too." _

Dean glanced at Sam. "Really?"

"_A holy artifact has been stolen. A sword."_

"Ok, by who?"

"…_I believe by a man named Valentine." _

"Wait, isn't that the name of Clary's father?" Sam asked.

Jo looked a little puzzled as she listened from the back seat. Dean gave a brief nod to Sam.

"And…you want to do something about it?"

"_I'm not sure." _Cas seemed hesitant.

Jo leaned forward, speaking into the phone's mouthpiece. "Are you still with the shadow people?"

"_Yes."_

"Then tell them we need to know a way to get the Faerie Queen. That's where the colt is."

"_I see. Something odd seems to have happened."_

Dean groaned. "Of course."

"_A faerie child was murdered tonight, apparently done by Valentine as well." _

"You think this is connected?" Sam asked.

"_I think we shouldn't discount anything." _

"Alright." Dean nodded, though Cas wouldn't see. "We'll be there sometime tomorrow."

"_I could-"_

"No. I've been driving for hours, I'm tired. We'll see you tomorrow." Dean shut his phone.

The three were silent for a few moments. Finally Jo spoke up.

"So. Shadowhunters huh?"

Sam nodded. "Yup."

"So what are they, like supernatural police?"

Dean snorted. "Crazy huh?"

"How come we've never heard of them?"

"Beats me."

"Think something bigger is going on?" Sam asked, looking at the other two.

Dean sighed. "All I know right now is that I need coffee."

They lapsed into silence as the Impala sped down a dark road.

SPNTMI

**TBC…**


	3. Ignited

**Disclaimer: I'm not Cassandra Clare or Holly Black. Just unpublished fangirl hoping to entertain. I didn't come up with Isabelle's motto.**

**Warnings: Violence and Incest…ish. Which means at least part of this chapter is M. rated.**

**AN: This chapter features Silarial, a character that actually belongs to Holly Black author of the **_**Tithe, Valiant, **_**and **_**Ironside**_** books. She is a friend of Cassandra Clare, who seems to have used Silarial in the 2****nd****, 3****rd****, 4****th**** 5****th****, and 6****th**** TMI books as the Seelie Queen. **

**Word count: 24,099**

**Chapter 3: Ignited.**

Clary walked down the street to meet the others at Magnus Bane's. Simon was walking beside her; he insisted on coming with her, so adamantly, that she didn't feel right refusing him. She let her fingers brush his, feeling little light bolts prick her as she did. She could see him blush out of the corner of her eye and she let him entwine his fingers with hers. He playfully bumped her shoulders, and the two nudged each other until they got to Magnus's complex.

Clary sighed. She was the one who suggested getting everyone together to discuss what was happening, but she was strangely reluctant. Simon looked at her, and he smiled reassuringly. When they got closer, a car was parked in front of the buildings. It was in the same space that the vampires had parked their motorcycles the night of the party when Clary had first met Magnus. Simon looked surprised.

"Hang on, is that-?" Simon's eyes widened.

It was the Impala. Its black doors opened and Clary could see Sam and Dean step out, along with a blond woman who didn't look much older than herself. Clary waved to get their attention and strode over to meet them.

"You're back."

Dean shrugged. "Couldn't stay away I guess."

"You guys must be _huge _fans." Simon blurted out. "LARPing 24/7?"

The two men just stared at Simon in confusion while the woman snorted with laughter.

"Huh?"

"He means role-playing in real life, its hardcore cosplay." Clary clarified before elbowing Simon. "Which they're not."

"Into Carver Edlund huh?" the woman asked, voice filled with mirth.

"How do you know that?" Dean asked her, as Sam feigned innocence.

"It shows?" Simon at least looked sheepish.

"Carver or well Chuck is a friend of theirs. He based his books on them." she struck out at hand. "I'm Jo."

"Simon. And this is my girlfriend Clary."

She blinked in surprise but said nothing. Clary smiled back at Jo. She was blonde and pretty with an honest face. She could almost be as slim as Isabelle, but dressed nothing like her. There was some sort of seriousness about her, but it hadn't hardened her. Maybe all hunters just ended up looking like that. It reminded her a bit of Shadowhunters.

"So you're a hunter too?"

Jo nodded. "Are Shadowhunters a boys only club?"

Simon snorted. "No it's a Shadowhunters club only."

Clary gave him a disapproving look. Jo's confusion cleared and she gave a small nod in understanding. Another voice shouted in greeting. It was Isabelle and Alec. The two walked over to the group. Isabelle gave a flirty smile to Dean, and a somewhat chillier one to Jo. Alec looked puzzled and somewhat annoyed at the crowd. Another round of introductions went around.

"You brought the mundane?" he asked Clary, gesturing at Simon.

"I feel so welcomed." Simon replied.

It was silent briefly, with the group staring at one another. Isabelle seemed to be sizing Jo up and the blonde woman calmly stared back. Alec was stealing glances between everyone, looking wary. Simon looked worriedly between the two women and the men that flanked her. Clary resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Well whatever." said Dean. "Let's get the show on the road."

Spell broken, Clary led the way to Magnus's apartment. She moved aside to let Alec open the door, looking very discreet when he flashed the silvered key. It barely went into the lock when the door was pulled wide open. Clary was used to seeing Magnus, but on fresh eyes, he was a sight to see.

His jet black hair was spiked, braided, and dyed in every color imaginable. His ears glimmered with silver and gold hoops. Rings shimmered on slim fingers, and matched the color of some of his bracelets. His purple eye shadow was thick and brought out the gold-green of his eyes. He had kohl lines that were bold, and competed with slightly rouged lips. He wore a silver mesh shirt that exposed his navel-less midriff, and he wore black leather trousers that were tightened by a sparkling flamingo pink belt. Over that he wore a kimono-esque robe that was red, gold, and green. It depicted battling dragons.

Clary turned to see the shocked expressions on the faces of the three hunters. She wasn't surprised. It almost made her smile. She began to introduce him.

"This is-"

"The artist formally known as Prince?" suggested Dean in a strangled voice. Clary realized he was trying not to laugh.

"Oh I'm much more fabulous." Magnus countered. He turned to Clary. "I can introduce myself." He smiled at the hunters. "I am Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn."

He led them imperiously into the apartment. In the high space, she heard Sam ask something.

"Are all warlocks like that?"

Alec answered, seemingly searching for a response. "Magnus is Magnus."

"Just be thankful he's not wearing tassels. Or a pompadour." Simon mumbled.

The loft space looked cleaner than usual, the sheets and curtains still contrasted with each other. Without a large party the place looked smaller than usual, like glimpsing a nightclub before it opened. The only thing that made any noise was a television that flickered. The only odd thing about that was that it was obviously unplugged. Odder still were the people who were watching it. It was Jace and Cas. Both were next to one another on the couch.

Clary had the sudden urge to sketch them. They were a study in contrasts. Jace, full of white gold, was sprawled on the sofa like a wounded lion. Cas was sitting ramrod straight, still wearing his trench coat. He resembled a blackbird sentry. Both stared unmovingly at the TV.

"The zombie marathon is already over." Jace called. "You didn't give us anything to eat, which is disappointing, because splattered guts make me hungry."

At his voice, Clary's insides flip flopped, her face flamed tortuously, and she worried at the barely concealed anguish in his voice. His back was to them all, and she could see the tension in his shoulders, and it was as easy to read as his darkened tone of voice.

"Actually, an omelet can fix that right up." Dean answered.

Jace jumped, and a small part of Clary was glad that his grimness had been broken. Jace swiveled around to regard them. His gold eyes widened with unguarded surprise, taking in people who just walked in. Clary felt her heart speed up when his gaze rested on her, and didn't slow down even when his expression became closed. She realized that she was still holding hands with Simon. Jace turned back to Dean.

"Just can't stay away can you?"

Dean half shrugged. "Guess not."

"You brought a bunch of mundanes with you?" Jace asked of no one in particular.

Said mundanes looked at him in irritation. He seemed to realize this, but didn't seem particularly sorry, even when he shrugged at the silence that greeted him. Simon glanced at the television, and began to speak.

"What are you watching?"

"_What not to Wear._" Cas spoke up, gravel voice filled with confusion. "I don't understand why this woman wants to throw away strangers' clothes."

"No one does." Simon answered.

Jace gestured to something on the screen. "You have to admit, anyone who wears high-waist khaki pants should be shot."

"What I don't understand is why we're talking about this." Magnus replied.

"Or why Cas is here." Dean said, mostly to himself.

"He is here because I invited him to stay after last night." Magnus called. He turned his cat eyes to Jace. "We can debate high fashion later."

Isabelle yanked both Jace and Cas off the sofa. "Clary wanted us to get to together, so let's do it."

With a wave of his hand, Magnus moved the sofa and replaced the television with a table and chairs. He scooted them together, and then conjured up steaming cups of coffee. Dean looked surprised, but appreciative and Jo was already finding a seat.

"Wish witches did something this helpful." Sam said.

"Aren't witches different from warlocks? Pretty sure." Simon asked.

"Witches don't exist." Alec corrected.

None of them were going to press the point. They all sat down, and looked at one another. It was a little awkward, but a few people sipped their coffee in the silence.

"So…" Dean ventured. "Cas told us that a faerie got killed and a sword got stolen."

Jace's eyes darkened, and he nodded grimly. "Valentine."

"Who?" Jo asked.

"Pretty much the Darth Vader of the Shadowhunters." Simon supplied.

Jace grimaced. "Valentine." He sounded as if his mouth was full of poison. "What a guy."

Alec seemed perturbed by Jace's expression and continued in place of him. "We think he is the one who murdered the faerie boy in Central Park."

Jo seemed as though she wanted to say something, but she kept quiet and waited for Alec to finish.

"Its' body was drained of blood and left in the middle of a jogging path. Its death was the same as a warlock boy who died just days before."

"Why?" Sam asked. "What, is he working some kind of spell?"

Magnus nodded, walking over to his bookshelf. "Clever little mundane." He flipped through the pages of a book and finding the one he was looking for, strode back and thumped it onto the table. "There. The Infernal Conversion Ritual."

Everyone leaned forward, some nearly knocked heads together. The page showed an illustration of a sword, its hilt in the shape of outstretched wings. Cas sucked in a breath. He looked like he was reading the text, which was surprising to Clary because it was a scrawling script that she knew was the warlock language.

"That is troubling." his voice very grave.

"What?" someone asked.

"The Ritual is very specific." Magnus explained. "It requires the blood of four Downworlder children. One for each different race. The blade has to be heated and then soaked in blood, then cooled, and the process repeated. This is to change the sword's allegiance from angelic to demonic in nature."

"And he is already halfway through." Clary whispered in horror. "All he needs now is the blood of a vampire and a werewolf."

"Is there any way to know who he'll target?" Sam asked. "Anyone he'd have a grudge against?"

Alec shrugged. "It seems to be at random. The warlock was someone he paid for, and faeries are easy to spot if you know what you're looking for." He frowned. "Basically anyone under eighteen is in danger."

"Nice." Dean replied. "How'd he even get his hands on this thing?"

Alec was about to reply, but his phone suddenly rang. He stood up to answer it. He spoke softly as Isabelle answered Dean's question.

"We think he also killed the faerie child as a way to distract everyone while he grabbed the sword. When we went in to bust out Jace, it was already gone."

"Probably also helped by the fact that someone was with him when he did it. Bastard practically waved it in my face in glee. As good as a-"

"Wait what?!" Clary yelled.

Alec looked back, startled. She gave him an apologetic smile, and he turned back to his conversation. Everyone else however, was staring at Jace. Isabelle in particular was giving him a fierce scolding glare. She looked like a rabid she-bear.

"Jace." she growled. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"What'd they look like?" Clary asked.

Jace regarded each angry girl; he seemed to be holding back a smile at that, but sobered when he answered each one. "Because you didn't ask." His eyes turned inward, as if seeing something no one else could see or go. "As for what that person looked like, I honestly couldn't say. Only one thing stood out, and it seems a little…" he shook himself.

"Their eyes. They were jet black."

Clary watched Sam, Dean, Jo, and Cas stiffen and fix Jace with serious expressions. Sam and Dean exchanged looks, and Jo cricked her neck in agitation. Cas managed to look even grimmer than before. Clary felt a sudden insight that they knew something that everyone else did not. Even Jace looked abashed by the scrutiny. Clary could see Simon rub his arms, as if keeping a chill away.

"Can you see if you can describe the person? Anything at all-" Sam hurriedly asked.

As Jace answered, Jo finally spoke up and her question seemed to be open for anyone to answer.

"Will the faerie murder make it difficult to contact the other faeries?"

Isabelle blinked in surprise. "Actually, we'll have to talk to them to keep the peace. That's what mom said anyway."

Jo pressed on. "I ask because I was hoping that you guys would know a way into Faerieland." she clarified when she saw Isabelle's look. "It's for a job. I wouldn't ask otherwise."

Before Isabelle could respond, Alec came back and sat down.

"That was mom. She just got word from the Seelie Queen. She wants to talk to us about the murder. Mom said she was pretty adamant about it."

"Oh well isn't this just your lucky day." Isabelle spoke dryly to Jo.

Alec looked between them. "Hmm? What'd I miss?"

"Just idiocy." Magnus assured him with a wave of his hand.

"These guys want to go into Faerieland." Isabelle put an ironic singsong voice on the word 'Faerieland'.

Alec looked at Jo, his expression was not unfriendly. "It isn't a very good idea. Hunters or not, the fey don't look kindly on mortals."

Jo gave him a look. "How about you guys? You're like cops right? Last time I checked, no one likes cops."

Isabelle looked considering. "Well, we could ask…"

"Well, as I was trying to tell you before I was interrupted." he gave the girls a reproving glare. "Mom said that the Seelie Queen wanted to speak to us. Us in particular."

"I'll go." Clary spoke up, hearing their conversation.

"No!" Jace shouted. "I'm Valentine's son. I imagine that's what got her interest." he glowered.

"But." Clary started. "Your under house arrest, you can't go. So I'll take your place. I'm Valentine's daughter, so that's just what the Queen will have to settle for."

Jace looked ready to protest, his face turning pale with anger. Alec held up his hands peaceably, and Isabelle gave him a knowing look.

"It wouldn't be a good idea to refuse." she told Jace. "We'll be there to look after her."

"No." Jace's voice was stretched tight. _"You will not take my sister to the Seelie Court without me. That is final." _

"We can take care of her." Alec enunciated carefully.

He seemed to be having a battle of wills with Jace just by his eyes alone. Gold and blue clashed violently.

Isabelle turned to Jo and the other hunters. "If you absolutely insist on doing this, we can't guarantee your safety."

"That's ok, but thank you." Sam smiled. "We'll be careful."

"You-" Dean looked at Sam, about to say more but Jo cut him off.

"Since Dean insists on going, Sam and I aren't gonna let him go into a place like that by himself. I doubt Cas will either."

Cas nodded once. "Jo is right. If you cannot guarantee their safety, then I will."

What?!" Jace looked at them with undisguised shock. "Stupid mundanes, do you have any idea what you're doing?!" Before they could make any protest, Jace continued. "No, of course you don't. The Fair Folk have no love for mortals, other than stringing them up for their own up amusements. Mortality is just a joke to them, and they _love_ to play games. They could enchant you to dance till you die, pull out your eyes just to get a better look at what color they are, or give you something so sweet to drink that you'll drink until you get sick, and you'll be more than happy to drink your own sick just to keep them smiling." He looked at them with disgust. "And you wanna go inside for a chat."

Clary looked at him in horror. "Christ, Jace-"

Surprisingly it was Simon who spoke next. "Well, they are hunters, I'm sure they know what they're doing. Besides, when we went to the hotel, we did okay-"

Jace cut him off. "Okay?!" he looked even more disgusted. "If by okay then you mean we barely made it out alive-"

Dean held up his hand. Clary noted the tenseness in his frame. Jace swore, and cut off his diatribe.

"Sounds like Alistair takin' a nap." Dean muttered. Clary wasn't sure if anyone other than herself and Sam heard him.

Dean looked up to regard them all. Clary shivered; his eyes reminded her of Renwick's. They were looking in on something deep, dirty, and horrifying. She was briefly reminded of Jace in their bleakness, but it was more than that. He was looking at himself and remembering, _living_ something over again. It was never-ending blackness, and something more twisted than despair. It was horrible, but it seemed to hypnotize everyone. She felt herself go pale. He opened his mouth, and Clary was afraid of whatever terrible thing was going to come out of it. He started speaking.

"Believe me when I say this: I've been to worse places. Where I've gone makes Faerieland look like another theme park from Disney World. I've seen and _done_-"

He said 'done' as though he was spitting out burning metal.

"-Things that'll make you piss out of your ears."

Clary believed him. She couldn't bring herself to break the silence, especially since Sam was looking at his brother with a deeply saddened expression, and Cas and Jo seemed to have similar expressions, full of grief. It didn't matter-and it didn't matter that no one said anything because Dean started speaking again.

"So I'd appreciated if you didn't talk down to me. Especially since nobody here seems to have a drivers' license in between em'."

His voice got lighter at that, but it was still serious even if the horrible blackness had vanished back to whatever place it had been. It still had the same effect of being taken seriously. His three companions picked up on that, and relaxed. They regarded the Shadowhunters, and Jo stood straighter.

"I'm with him." she nodded her head at Dean. "About this mundane bullshit. Say what you want about us, but we've got experience and we won't put up with any crap."

She looked right at Jace and the Lightwoods. Sitting straight she suddenly looked defiant and calm. Clary didn't know how she managed both, but Jo wasn't afraid. There was something sad and serious in her face, but there was also fierceness. Clary felt a pang in chest. A kind of homesickness, like an unbidden memory. It took her a moment for her to realize that Jo looked a bit like Clary's mother, Jocelyn with that expression. It made Clary wonder if Jo resembled her own mother and that's where she got such a powerful expression.

This was followed by a shocked silence. Alec looked strangely wounded, and his sister's eyes were surprised and maybe something else. Simon was looking at the hunters with something akin to surprised awe, particularly in Jo's direction. It was tense, but a strange tenseness. It came not from life threatening creatures, or getting arrested, but having a serious social awkwardness that wouldn't be easily dismissed. This was unusual for both parties. No one spoke. Magnus looked in between Jace and Alec, wearing an inscrutable expression. He cleared his throat.

"I have a suggestion." He continued when it was clear no one was going to speak. He turned to Alec and Isabelle. "When your mother made that contract with me, I made a loophole. As long as Jace is under supervision with other Shadowhunters, he can go wherever he pleases. Especially since I'll know where he is. All he has to do is trade places with someone to take his place here."

"I'll do it." Alec volunteered, and then turned pink at his sister's stare. "Jace is right; the Queen probably does want to talk to him more than me."

Isabelle nodded in agreement, but her smile suggested a separate motive. "True." she surveyed the room. "Ok, so let's see who's going…just raise your hands or something." She counted. "Alright that's, Sam, Dean, Jo, Cas, Clary, Jace, Me, and…Simon?"

Clary tried not to show her surprise; after that little discussion, she didn't feel right telling him not to come along. He caught her eyes and smiled reassuringly. It didn't decrease the fluttering in her stomach. She'd worry no matter what, and she wanted to avoid Jace's waspish stare. Isabelle blinked.

"Wow, that's a lot of people. Alec, call up Mom and tell her we accept the Queen's offer." she watched Alec stand up and start dialing. "Now, I can get us into the entrance to the Seelie Court, but it only works at night. So that means we have quite a while to wait."

Sam exhaled deeply. "Well, if it's alright with Magnus, we'd like to stay here till' then. In fact, it looks like we might be seeing more of each other. Our job brought us back into town, chasing a lead and it looks like our case has somehow gotten tangled up with whatever is going on with you guys. So…can we do it? Can we work together if we have to?" Sam asked.

"Of course." Alec replied. "Sorry about earlier." he colored with embarrassment.

Sam shrugged. "We're cool."

This seemed to be the signal for relaxing and an unofficial way of dismissing their meeting. Chairs scraped, as people stood up and moved around. Only Cas remained sitting and he looked up at Magnus.

"I am eager to hear more about this Soul-Sword."

TMISPN

Magnus flashed a shiny smile. "Certainly."

They passed the hours by.

Dean, Sam, and Jo grabbed supplies from their trunk. Dean busied himself by cleaning the weapons. Jace feigned disinterest, but his gaze kept wandering and settling on Clary. Clary and Simon watched wide-eyed for a few minutes before Simon shyly asked Jo if she wanted to learn how to play a dice game. Sam busied himself looking at Magnus's library collection, and trying to translate what he could. Magnus was speaking to Alec and Cas, both blue eyed boys listening in obvious interest. Isabelle played with her hair for a bit before wandering over to Dean to compare weapons.

The time passed quicker than expected.

TMISPN

The Impala changed lanes to park into an empty space. They had gotten as close to Central Park as they could. As soon as Dean parked, everyone hurried to get out; it was cramped in the backseat. Dean was adamant about driving, since he didn't want his baby left alone for too long in such a big city.

Moonlight gleamed on the black metal as Dean and Sam began to pull weapons out of the hidden compartment. Jace, Isabelle, and Simon peered curiously inside when the two began gathering a few items together. Jo plucked out a messenger bag and slung it around her shoulder. Simon gaped at her. Dean caught their eyes and smiled.

"You can never be too careful."

Jace shrugged amiably. "True."

"Follow me." Isabelle said.

She strode along a path with ease, the route was obviously familiar to her. With her in the lead, she began to explain what she was calling 'rules'.

"First, don't eat or drink anything they offer you. Faerie food does weird things to people. Second, don't talk to anyone who isn't the Queen, or the person who will be escorting us to her. It is very easy to get enchanted. Okay, Faeries can't lie, but they can engage in some creative truth telling."

"You sure know a lot." Simon replied.

Surprisingly, Isabelle blushed but answered primly. "Of course I do. It's my job."

They came to a pond, a few benches were at the water's edge, but it was the pavilion that was on the other side and nearly resting _in_ the water is what Isabelle seemed to be aiming at. She waded into the water; her skirt billowed out around her. It revealed her legs, flesh pale as moonstone except for the swirling black lines painted on them. Cas's eyes widened; he looked as if he was reading them. Clary watched him do it as he followed everyone in, his trench coat pulling him into the water.

Simon struggled to get a decent footing, shoes squelching. Jo offered her arm to steady him and he took it gratefully. Clary felt an uncomfortable squirm of jealousy; Jo could rival Isabelle in looks, and Clary assumed she probably could fight as well.

'_This is why I don't have female friends. I really should calm down.'_

Clary slipped in the mud, nearly toppling over herself. She was glad she didn't wear anything as nice as Isabelle had. Jace was quickly by her side, offering a Marked arm.

"No thanks." she righted herself as quickly as she could, face flushing.

Both of them caught Simon's pleased look when she refused and Jace scowled. Feeling irritated at both, Clary moved away and hastily followed Isabelle. Dean and Sam followed. Dean swore loudly, and Jo and Sam laughed.

Dean shot his brother a dirty look. "Easy for you sasquatch."

Isabelle gathered them all together, her arms outstretched.

"We have to stick together." She looked carefully at them all. "And work together. Seelie Court is dangerous." She fixed Clary with a reproachful look. "So control your boys. Don't give me that look. You need to show a bit of your natural authority. Guys always need to be kept on a tight leash."

Jo smiled. "Amen."

"Sexist." Dean countered.

"I agree." Jace replied. "My manly sensibilities are offended."

"Shut up." Clary grinned.

"Yes ma'am."

The mood was a bit better, and Isabelle pointed to the moon. It hung like pearl in the sky, looming impossibly huge.

"Now watch how I do it."

She moved forward. Sam stared carefully before looking back up at the moon; it illuminated his confusion perfectly.

"Wait, the moon always gets farther the closer you get to it."

Isabelle smiled. "That's a part of the magic."

She went into the moon's reflection that rested on the water. Moonlight shone down on her, and the water's surface. It lit her up, her hair turned silver, lighting each strand and her eyes even brighter, making them look like a pair of pearls. The water rippled around her, as if the bright orb in the sky was riling it up. Steam began to spiral up and Isabelle's skin gleamed with a moonshine fever. The swirling lines on her skin burned. She looked like some arcane goddess. Then-

She was gone, swallowed up. Jace followed. His golden white hair looked as though it were incased in ice and he winked one gold eye before sinking downwards. Clary waded quickly after, her hair shining like a brand of fire. Sam and Dean exchanged a look, and Simon and Jo paddled forward. They looked like two opposing chess pieces when the lunar light hit them. Their grip tightened on each other as they both went down. Cas seemed to be weighed down by his clothes soaking the water. When he entered the circle, he looked every bit as lovely as Isabelle did, and his blue eyes blazed impossibly. He dunked under the water as if pushed, and he didn't even blink when he disappeared. Sam and Dean moved, and stepped into the circle. The water was still freezing, but the air itself seemed to ripple. Dean drew a shaky breath and smiled at Sam.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

They held their breath, and suddenly it was as if a very large hand had shoved their heads under the water. It was pushing them until it was no longer a push, and they were falling.

They were back on solid ground. Dean toppled onto Sam and opened his eyes. They were underground. Surrounded by the rest of the group, it was the only reason the two allowed themselves to relax. Jo shot them a small smile as she rummaged through her bag, trying to salvage her things. Cas stood in between her and Isabelle. Water ran down him in rivets, getting caught in this coat and soaking him. Isabelle was shaking the water out of her hair. Simon blinked and shivered, he bent down searching the floor for his fallen glasses. Clary began to help him, and the two scrunched together as Jace stood beside them, wringing water from his shirt.

There was no faerie waiting for them, and the air was freezing. Strands of white hair-like string were prickling along the dark ceiling. Simon found his glasses and he looked up, squinting and adjusting them.

"Roots." he pointed upward. "We're underground."

"Very astute of you." Jace droned. His hair was pressed into a cap.

Dean looked around. "Ok, where's the escort?"

The eight of them stood pressed together. It was at the start of a tunnel, which stretched on for quite a while it seemed. It was dark, and the shivering was like a vibration, since everyone had press themselves together and each person was shaking. Waiting was becoming difficult.

"Whooo." Isabelle breathed. "Wasn't that a ride?"

"No." Cas replied. "A ride is a-"

"Not really." Jace interrupted. "Let's not do that again."

As soon as Jace said that, the outline of a figure was moving toward them. Isabelle recognized it, and she yelled cheerfully.

"Meliorn! Over here!" She waved her arms widely.

When the faerie got closer, a scowl could be seen. He had long hair that went down to his waist, fine like long summer grass and dark as mahogany wood. Course bark was covering a white tunic; it was armor and it glimmered in different colors when he moved. He nodded in greeting to Isabelle. She took that as a cue and embraced him.

"So that's how she knows so much about faeries." Dean whispered.

"Dean." Sam gave him a stern look.

Meliorn gazed at all the faces, looking as though he was measuring something. He first looked at the Shadowhunters and his gaze settled on Simon. The boy seemed to shrink back from the cool, alien gaze. He tried to push back his dark hair.

"A mundane?"

Clary bristled at Meliorn's tone. He would have been perfectly willing to leave Simon there.

"I had no such orders to bring you with me." He turned to regard the other four. "Nor you. I was not told of your coming."

"No." Sam replied. "But your Lady will want to see us."

Meliorn looked unamused. "Will she? My Lady is fickle, and her whims shift faster than the seasons."

Sam was undaunted. "Then this will be a very slight interruption. She might even get some amusement out of it."

"Not many mortals are willing to offer themselves up as toys." it was said with an air of mild clinical interest.

"Simon isn't a toy." Clary spoke up suddenly. "Neither are they."

Jace pointed to Simon. "He is under our protection. We owe him a debt, one of life-blood."

Simon looked back at Jace in surprise. His looked shifted into something thoughtful, as if reevaluating something.

"Very well." Meliorn turned to the other four. "Protection isn't guaranteed for your kin. You will be an added delight to the revels."

Cas stepped forward, suddenly looking fierce. "They have protection. _Mine._"

Meliorn's brows furrowed in confusion. "You are neither mundane, nor Nephilim."

Cas had a momentary look of confusion before it was replaced with something akin to anger. "Correct."

Dean turned to look at Cas, surprised to seeing such an unexpected reaction on Cas's face. "So, we're not your average mundanes." Dean told Meliorn. "Take us to see your Queen."

Meliorn gave them another sweeping look before leading them forward without another word. Isabelle hurried to catch up to him, bubbly voice echoing as they turned into a larger hallway. The underground tunnel widened and echoes bounced against each other like pebbles. Simon was sandwiched between Clary and Jo, his questions to the female hunter could be heard by Sam and Dean, who were behind them. Jace was being buffeted between the groups, keeping his eyes trained on Clary.

"He's protective." Dean whispered to Sam.

"Yeah. Wonder who that reminds me of…?" Sam whispered back, rolling his eyes.

Cas brought up the rear, shoes nipping the brothers' heels. Isabelle suddenly laughed out loud, and when she spoke next, her voice was a crystal bell.

"_Because that's my motto: Nothing less than seven inches!" _

Dean leaned into Sam again, this time by accident. When he straightened up, Sam could see he was shaking with suppressed laughter. He opened his mouth several times, trying to make a joke, but every time he just collapsed into silent laughter. His voice was congested with amusement.

"It's good you know that about yourself!" he finally called.

She looked back at him, surprised before giving him a sly grin.

"Isn't it? My options are wider that way!" she called back.

Sam shook his head. "Real mature."

Dean was about to reply.

"No."

This didn't stop Dean, he looked back at Sam, eyes full of mirth. "You aren't going to tell me not to confuse reality with porn?"

Sam elbowed him sharply, finally smiling at Dean's loud exclamation of pain. "No."

Meliorn led them down a wide corner and the sound of music wafted up, along with the scents of summer. They entered a large room, so vast that it seemed to be the outdoors. Faeries were dancing in the center of what served to be a ballroom. They swayed and swirled to a heady tune. The notes went high and held, wavering until they suddenly plunged and became frantic. It was a melody's equivalent of a roller coaster. It was jarring and invasive at first, but when the ears adjusted it was strangely pleasant.

Dean watched as Clary looked at the faeries with wide eyes. She seemed dazed, her feet picking up of their own accord, almost imitating a ballet step. Isabelle took one look at all the dancing fey and made a grab for Simon. She stumbled back from Meliorn, not as graceful in her heels. She motioned for Jace and he went to her. They were the only ones in motion.

A dancing fey with lilac skin and membranous wings brushed past Sam. He craned his neck to see the rest of her, almost against his will. They were not beautiful, they didn't look human enough to pass for beauty, at least to mortal eyes-but they were graceful and timeless. Eyes of all shapes, sizes, and colors looked on the group with undisguised fascination. A short furred man pointed a gnarled finger at them, and a woman with scales laughed.

Jace hurriedly pushed Jo, his hands trying to untangle themselves from her messenger bag. A faerie with some kind of tail had gotten close to her and small darting sprites were tugging at her hair. Cas suddenly grabbed for Clary and she blinked rapidly, as if water had splashed into her face. She stared at the mingling creatures with something like awestruck horror. She made a frantic gimme motion to Sam, who was studying a piece of fruit. She reached up on her tiptoes, practically pulling herself up to reach his face. She whispered something to him. Sam looked back at what he was holding. It could have been a peach, or an apple but the color was a pale white, its dark pit visible beneath the skin. He threw the fruit, and a troll creature caught it, giving Sam a wicked grin as he bit into the fruit, and raised it in thanks.

Isabelle yanked off Cas's tie and roped it around Simon's eyes. He made a noise of protest and tried to remove the blind, but Isabelle slapped his hands away. Cas's hands shot forward, gripping Dean's shoulders in a vice-like clamp. His hand seemed to burn through the fabric, touching the welt on Dean's arm. Dean gasped at the sudden sensation. He turned to Cas.

"What's your problem?" His voice as slurred as if he drank an entire bottle of whiskey.

Cas gripped his arm tighter, and clarity snapped back like a rubber band. Dean sharply took a step back, bumping into Cas. He was looking at the fey with something like shock. It was like stepping into a dark room, with soft comfortable looking shadows that blunted perception, before the light switched on, giving sharp brightness that didn't let anything escape. Suddenly said room revealed something horrifying inside of it.

The fey had crazed looking faces, fingers with too many or too little joints. They moved as if gravity couldn't touch them; their otherworldliness so prominent that it became invasive. Loveliness that had warped and Dean so strongly reminded of demons that he began to draw his gun. He flinched when Sam's hand came down on it. He looked back into Sam's face. It was bleached of color, and he looked just as Dean felt.

"No, let's just go."

"Yes."

Cas's graveled voice was strained with anger. Dean turned in surprise. He hadn't heard him sound like unless there was something big. He was actually shaking with anger and his eyes were wide with aggression. For the angel to be showing this extreme of emotion, meant something was going on. He was staring at the gathering of fey with mistrust and something else. Not quite rage but sharper than disgust, and tenser than fear. Almost instinctual. For the first time in a long time, Dean was nervous of Cas.

"C'mon." Jace suddenly rasped.

"I don't understand." Cas suddenly spoke in frustration. He seemed to have said it to himself.

Sam and Dean exchanged worried looks as they followed Jace and the rest of the group. They stumbled along, more raggedly then when they first entered. Meliorn remained impassive as they moved down into another chamber. This one had a curtain draped in the entryway; it was made from some kind of leaves, looking as soft as cotton. Something glittered on it, and looking close it was water droplets woven so tightly into the plant that they maintained their shape.

"Wait here for a moment." Meliorn intoned.

He pulled back the curtain and slipped inside. He returned a few minutes later.

"You may enter."

He drew the curtain back all the way, letting them enter. The glassy water drops brushed against Clary's face. Once they were all inside, Meliorn followed them in; he silently glided into a corner, his face stiff and impassive, and a weapon was now at his waist.

There in the center of the room, sat the Faerie Queen. There was a distinct difference between her and her subjects. She was beautiful. Unlike the rest of the fey, who made beauty and hideousness blur together into some kind of unearthly confusion, she was undoubtedly beautiful. She was almost painful to look at. Her hair was copper red, true copper red; the color of dried blood. It was long and lavish, pinned up with a spray of flowers and shells. Her eyes were a blue that rivaled Cas's, but were much paler, like preserved ice. She looked completely human, statuesque in height and curved generously. With her pale smooth skin, she looked like an artists' statue come to life. She was painful to look at.

She smiled at them all, and it was the loveliest smile that had existed. It was one that knew many things, enigmatic and proud. Her glance was casual, but she had the air of a creature ready to pounce onto something juicy, all the while keeping that smile on her face.

Dean shivered. She was Alistair in a woman's body. She could do cruel things to you, make you do cruel things, and no matter what happened, you still wanted to see that smile. He turned his gaze away from her. She was reclining on a pile of cushions, surrounded by courtiers, and they looked on with undisguised fascination. It looked like a gypsies' cavern, complete with fairy tale monsters. The Queen gazed at them all, and she made a few slender motions with delicately hennaed hands. A small fey covered entirely with fur quickly produced a tray with several goblets on it.

"Welcome to my court."

Jace stepped forward, and his back stood at attention. His gold eyes were politely appraising. He was the group's spokesperson now.

"We thank you for your generousness, My Lady."

His tone was smooth and soft. He dropped all sarcasm, and he let his gaze transform into a polite and conversational mask. Clary was reminded of Valentine, albeit gentler and devoid of pride. Sam looked on in interest.

"Sit down." her plump lips quirked upward. "We'll carry on with civility."

Jace led them down onto the softened grass, which released a sweet scent when they sat down. It mingled with the hazy, heady summertime air. Even though it was fall elsewhere, it would be eternally warm here, frozen forever to be summer. The goblets were passed out to them. Sam gave Dean a brief warning look before letting his own cup rest in his lap. Cas stared at the smooth rim as it might come alive and bite him. When Clary and Jo sat down, the sprites alighted to them, trying to pluck strands of their hair. Clary looked at her cup; flower petals were floating on the surface of the liquid. Clary picked one of the petals and studied it. It was pink but had reddened from the stain of the drink. Simon shot her a warning look as she crushed the petal between her fingers, releasing its scent and staining her skin. The drink sloshed the rim. She couldn't tell what color it was from the inside of the cup, and she had a sudden flash of memory; her mother once talked to her about 'stranger danger' and safe parties. The conversation had been so long ago that she had nearly forgotten it, but now as it came unbidden she was abruptly paralyzed by sadness.

Jo made a tiny mewl of alarm. Sprites had crawled inside her bag, making it move as if alive. Clary set down her cup and began to help, and they plunged their hands inside feeling for the tiny creatures. A nip of pain made Clary wince as one of them bit her finger. She grabbed little thing, enclosing her hand around it like a cage. She pulled one out. Jo was also cradling one; she uncupped her hands and inspected it. The sprites chittered before fluttering underneath tasseled cushions. Jo looked inside her bag for more as Clary sucked away the blood from her bitten finger.

"Forgive me for rambling my lady." Jace began. "The Fair Folk are indeed fair. I'm ashamed to admit that your beauty has taken me by surprise. But since you cannot tell untruths, I shall do the same."

'_So that's how he does it.'_ Sam thought, mentally taking note.

The Queen undulated, the muscles in her legs flexed beneath her elaborate dress. She didn't bother to adjust it, letting her legs dangle with a deceiving carelessness. She looked as though she planned on devouring Jace.

"As pretty with words as you are in face and you are as charming as the name you bear. It seems the Clave knows my weakness; how clever they are to send you."

"Nothing clever about it My Lady. I simply go where I am sent."

The Queen shrugged elegantly. "Very well. Some say modesty is its own reward." She regarded the other four. "Meliorn tells me that you claim that you are no ordinary mundanes, and I must agree."

Her words surprised all those who surrounded her. She began to study them intently, Cas in particular.

"I have never seen mundanes keep such esteemed company." she pitched her voice to call attention her gathering. "Truly, this is something to regard. You may never lay eyes on it again. We are in the presence of an angel."

The crowd rippled and inched forward. Cas was already on edge, and there was something about his gaze that stopped the courtiers from getting too close. That didn't stop them from staring at him; as though he was an exotic creature that had been captured for their amusement. They squirmed in their places, as if wanting to touch him and a few licked their lips. Some glanced back at their Queen, who was also staring.

Dean didn't like their eagerness, and something about their quick movements was setting off his radar. They had the movements of intelligent predators and the seemingly casual attitude of sociopaths. He felt the reassuring weight of his gun, and the holy water in his jacket pocket. Sam had salt and the knife. Both of them had iron. Dean moved forward on instinct, partly blocking Cas from the fey that were staring at them. The Queen could have her subjects attack them with just a word. She was watching them, drinking in their actions. Dean knew he had just given her a valuable piece of information.

The Queen licked her lips. "With such a fierce stare it is easy to believe that you are a messenger of Heaven." she looked from Cas to Dean, and then back to Cas. "Your companion is so protective. Tell me, are you in his debt?"

The courtiers hovered, trembling for a response. Even the Shadowhunters looked curious. Sam was looking back and forth. Dean wasn't looking at Cas, but was still trying to gauge the danger. His shoulders showed that he was listening and awaiting the answer. For some reason it seemed important. Cas was looking downward, his eyelashes likened at half mast, partially concealing his eyes. He seemed to be truly considering the question, and he looked up at the same moment that Dean turned around to look at him. Almost as if he sensed that Cas was about to answer. When Cas looked at the Queen, his eyes were wide and bright.

"Yes."

The Queen practically purred. Whether it was at the unconcealed stunned expressions on Sam and Dean's faces, or the answer in general, it wasn't clear. She sighed wistfully at them, as if she wasn't yet able to eat a much desired piece of cake.

"My apologies, I must turn my attentions elsewhere, diverting as they may be. The Clave can be quite unforgiving and I must give them due. The Nephilim are not the most patient of people, so I must attend to them first. It will also give my anticipation of our talk much greater joy."

"Take your time." Sam replied, a little breathlessly.

The Queen stared at Jace. "We have much to discuss. Say your piece."

"Thank you, Lady. We know you wish to discuss the events of last night. So do we."

The Queen nodded. Even though she hadn't shifted her position, her tone became more businesslike.

"We know who it was that killed the fey child."

"Was it one of the Vampires? Have you brought forward an individual? Law states you must hand it over, as it is our right to dispatch justice."

"It was not. It was Valentine. The blood wasn't drained for nourishment, but for a ritual."

The Queen looked surprised. "A ritual?"

"Yes and more blood will be needed."

"More children of the folk will be slaughtered?" now she looked interested.

"No, but the bloodshed will continue, not only for Shadowhunters but Downworlders as well."

"I see." If Jace were a ball, she would have dropped him.

"My Lady?" Jace's tone was incredulous and he paused to modulate his tone before speaking again. "Valentine is a threat to all, and he endeavors to succeed. To prevent this tragedy-"

"A tragedy only for your people." The Queen interrupted.

When Jace spoke again, a tone of warning crept through. "My Lady, I could compel you for assistance."

Her eyes flashed. "I'm sure you could 'compel my assistance'" her voice was honey covered acid. "You Shadowhunters consider it your mandate to protect through servitude. However I must remind you, that servitude did not come from a pleasurable loyalty. There are many who chafe at the bit and bridle. Duress has been the way of our relationship for many a year."

Jace recited something in a different language, and Sam realized it was Latin.

"_The Law is hard, but it is the Law." _

"Ah yes." The Queen breathed. "The creed of the Shadowhunters. The affirmation is gratifying to hear." her tone had a mocking ring.

Jace clenched his teeth. "Yes it is. So if Valentine does manage to succeed, he will destroy Downworld. If that does happen, remember that it was a Shadowhunter that tried to warn you, protect you."

"My, what chivalry, managing to bring grim tidings with such words." her voice lost all its amusement.

"Regrettably." Jace didn't sound regretful at all.

"My gratitude for such a thoughtful envoy."

The Queen turned away from the group, but didn't dismiss them. Jace remained seated and the others followed suit. Her gaze rested on the second quartet. She made a pout; it would be flirty if it wasn't shadowed by her mirth.

"I do hope you have brought sweet tidings…?" her eyelashes fluttered sleepily.

Sam looked slightly dazed, his mouth looked as plump as the Queen's, and he swayed. Cas lightly gripped his shoulder, and he jumped in surprise. He flushed with embarrassment, and briefly met the Queen's eyes.

"I'm not sure if you will consider this either good or bad news, but…" he hesitated. " You have something that we want." he flushed deeper at the implication and he glanced at his brother for help.

Like Sam, Dean couldn't look at The Queen for very long, but he finished Sam's sentence.

"A weapon." he paused. "Crowley sent us."

There was a perceptible change. The Queen's gaze became measured and cunning. She shifted; the movement was the sinuous rippling of a snake. She scooted forward, eyes burning. The sweetness was replaced with calm; she was still a panther, but it was more obvious than before.

The teenagers were staring avidly. Simon was about to say something, but Isabelle shushed him, her eyes wide and her expression matched Jace's. Here were mundanes taking them by surprise; a mystery had appeared out of the fog. Clary leaned forward.

"My my." her eyes held calculation like a sword. "You know of my arrangement with Crowley." she made it a statement.

Dean knew this was a tactic for getting information, to get some kind of edge back. So Crowley had something on her, or over her maybe. The way she said it, implied that she thought if she said it in a congratulatory manner, as if she was impressed by them, they'd give her details. She thought they knew him well enough to use them to get to him. Dean just hoped that she couldn't see past his bluff.

"Yes."

He kept his voice firm and plain. If she called his bluff and realized that he knew nothing of said arrangement, she might find some kind of hole to wriggle through and not give them the weapon, or screw them over. Or both.

"Such a forceful request."

She was fishing, and with her eyes glimmering, Dean thought she could see thorough it, but she was wriggling. It was a trap. Dean remembered Crowley's words. He let a smile play on his face, a knowing one. Implying that even if he didn't know the details, he knew enough.

"That's Crowley for you. I know you'll happily hand it over to us." he kept his tone firm, but light.

She knew a threat when she heard it. Sam helped by nodding along with Dean's words. He didn't have his puppy dog eyes on, but something a bit darker. It was an earnest face nonetheless and she gazed at it briefly.

The Queen shrugged again. "True enough."

She pierced them with a look. She saw through them, but didn't see the trouble of fighting it. It made Dean curious as to what she had worked out with Crowley, but some things are just best left alone. Her look said:

"_You're lucky I'm in a generous mood."_

The Queen turned to Meliorn. "Bring it forward." she commanded. She looked at Dean again. "I seem to have shed a burden of sorts. Perhaps I should give my thanks to Crowley." she mused.

"We'll let him know what happened here." Sam assured.

The Queen looked wryly amused. "So kindly a threat." she purred. "My thanks."

Meliorn, who didn't look pleased at his lady's instructions, had now returned. He was carrying a large bundle of cloth as though it was a live bomb. He had paled, looking ready to drop it and return to the corner he reluctantly left. Setting it delicately onto the ground, had had kept it tightly bundled. It lay at her feet like some live thing that feigned innocence. The blood red cloth was delicately patterned with moving butterflies in colors of gold and burgundy. The Queen put on bare foot on the bundle; Meliorn went even paler at that, slim fingers twitching for his weapon.

Dean made a move to take the bundle, the Queen moved it away from him with her foot; her ankle bracelets jangled at the motion. Her nails stood out against brightly colored against the cloth; they matched. The polish on the nails looked like droplets of blood on her feet.

Dean grimaced; of course. As soon as you put your foot onto home plate, she would yank it out from under you. She gave Dean a playful smile; she relished his anger more than Sam's alarm. This was one last game to play. A final parting gift in the form of one-upmanship. If it had been anyone else, Dean would have been inclined to play.

"A trade." she hungrily drank in their expressions.

"I suppose Crowley wouldn't mind." he growled.

She didn't seem afraid; it was a halfhearted threat, and even if it weren't she was getting back at the silver-tongued demon in some way. Dean made a face.

"Dunno what we have that you'd be interested in."

The Queen giggled the sound floating high into the air and suddenly Dean had the feeling that they did have something.

"Oh come now. Be sporting."

She met Cas's eyes. He glared back. She shivered, as if she enjoyed fear, even if it was her own. Her fingers fluttered, swift and soft as a hummingbirds'. Cas tilted his head away from her hands. His eyes flashed with something other than anger, not attraction or shame, but something Dean wasn't able to identify.

"You seem immune to my charms. That could prove to be…would you be averse to staying here?"

"Very." he spat.

She appeared unruffled by the venomous response. "It seems to my eyes to be a fair trade."

"You need your eyes checked." Dean snapped. "You can't have him-"

"Let him decide." Sam interrupted. He ignored Dean's shocked look. "You want something from him right? Well than he has the right to decide what to give you." Sam gave the Queen a look of disgust.

The Queen pouted, but she turned to Cas expectantly.

"I am fascinated. The Fair Folk share an ancestry with the Shadowhunters, a curiosity to be sure. You however, have a home among the stars. This intrigues me. Perhaps you can tell us who spawned our race, or spin a tale on the exploits of your kin. Perhaps you kept the company of Raziel?"

Cas looked confused and he shook his head. He seemed to be searching for something. The Queen eyed him carefully.

"I have heard tales. It has been said that to drink angels' blood will bring happiness…"

Sam looked positively alarmed, and it rivaled with angered disgust. He may have suggested Cas to give the Queen whatever he wanted, but now it was Dean holding Sam back. Dean's eyes were narrowed, but he had said nothing.

She continued. "It has also said that it is one of the most potent substances this world has to offer."

"That would be ill advised." Cas managed to look reproachful. "You seem to want something. I have a suggestion, and I'm afraid that this will have to satisfy you." he paused. "I know how to sing and there is _one _song that you would enjoy. Only one, and then we trade."

The Queen seemed satisfied with this and she nodded her head, indicating for him to continue.

"I was fortunate to have learned this. An old friend taught me." A spasm of sorrow passed over his face like a cloud. He closed his eyes.

He began to sing. It began as a low hum, starting from the ground up. Rising in pitch, it was still slow; it was a mournful song. Cas opened his mouth wider, and his voice was deep, not a baritone, but it was rich and harmonious. At first it was just pure sound, but then words began to slip in, swimming into the stream of melody. The words were in a language no one understood, but it was smooth and flawless.

His voice had breathiness to it as he added layers of fluttering hope to the sad tone. It was a bittersweet song that was telling of happiness, memories of gentler time. A sharp note of something joyous with a tang of pain. It was not unlike a faerie song, but it tenuously rose up and down, like a baby bird's first flight. Something about its purity made it all the more poignant.

Cas's eyes were still closed, and now his hands were moving of their own accord; he didn't seem to be aware of their motions. They punctuated notes as his fingers flexed, and they accentuated the rest of the song, telling the rest of the story.

He bowed it down low, letting regret fill it to the brim and his voice went into a pitch so deep, his throat vibrated. The words stopped, it was just noise. It undulated like waves, letting glimpses of something forbidden be seen. It was temptation in the form of a shimmering shell. Then his voice became the equivalent of an acoustic guitar, and a fearful dash of a violin's bow would streak though, like lightening in the sky.

His lips puckered-a perfect bow, and they formed words. A kind of chant at first, wrapping itself around the words and let them spin around his tongue and blow out. He was kissing the notes, making a goodbye as he left the regret behind. There was a rising; it was gaining speed and power. It was warbling with incandescent determination. They were marching up the hill, dropping pieces of doubt onto the ground. It wasn't exactly sad, but gave the impression of gritting one's teeth, of swallowing sobs-

And then it was soaring; his words had wings and they were rising up to the ceiling, high notes hitting the air, igniting it. His fists clenched as he reached the crescendo. The words slipped away, as if being pulled back by gravity and the verses gave way to unadulterated sound.

It was at the peak, the high point of the roller coaster. Looking down at the precipice, seeing everything laid out below, but not able to understand it all. That didn't matter. His voice went higher and higher, a winding soprano that that pierced the crux. It was pure love. Love of the good and the bad, unafraid to feel pain as if his tenor was a sword. He held it, letting it become torturous as he dangled over the edge.

A sunrise blazed up just he took the plunge. His voice didn't simply lower but swept itself around, becoming frantic; almost like a chant as the words came back, still shortened. It slowed down and the words lengthened and rippled, giving one last throwing refrain of glory.

It became a haunting hymn of words, as if speaking to an old friend. It was a velvet embrace; it wanted to crush, never let go, but kept it gentle. It was a note goodbye, of remembrance. The small word was spoken clearly, ringing like the last words in a book before finally fading away like the morning mist.

The song ended. Cas's eyes fluttered open, as though he was struggling to wake up from some deep enchanted sleep. He didn't slump to the ground but there was certain tiredness in his posture, as if spent. Cas's breath was coming out in flutters, cheeks and lips pink. It somehow made him look very young.

Without a word the Queen nudged to bundle with her foot. Her eyes were wet pools. Sam darted forward to retrieve the thick cloth as the Queen grabbed a goblet and drained it in a single swallow. Her composure was much better than that of her courtiers, some of whom were openly weeping. They appeared to be too stunned to applaud, but clutched at their chests or to those who were next to them.

The group wasn't much better it seemed. Dean was staring at Cas as if he had never seen him before, but he didn't utter a single word. Sam nudged Dean, staring at Cas with incredulous eyes, but there was a congratulatory smile of amusement. Dean didn't move even when Sam tried to get his attention. Jo had clasped her hands over her mouth, but there was a smile hidden beneath. Her eyes were wide with shock, and looked suspiciously bright. She took a shuddery breath. Simon stared unabashedly, openmouthed, the tie long taken off. Isabelle had scooted closer to him and was looking close to speaking. Jace was staring with something that wasn't necessarily shock, but that he had been absorbed into the song and had just woken up. He had scooted closer to Clary, their fingers nearly touching. Clary seemed to be in a similar bind as Jace, and she was blinking rapidly, as if moved.

Hands were unraveling the cloth as no one spoke. No one knew how to break the spell, and the silence was becoming eerie. A sudden, simple cocking click made everyone jump. The courtiers gasped, and all their frivolity and theatrics returned as if given back to them. The layers of vibrant fabric were lying in a discarded pile on the ground.

Dean held the colt in his hands. His clear green eyes inspected it, fingering the cold metal with expert hands. He was giving it an appraisal. Giving it the once over, he raised it in the air; the inscription blazed like fire on its barrel. Dean mock aimed it at a tree, putting his finger on the trigger.

"_Bang."_ he mouthed.

"'I shall fear no evil'" Jace suddenly recited, nodding at the Latin. "Cute piece." that seemed to be said for both Dean and Cas.

"Ain't it?" Dean gave him a feral grin that matched Jace's.

The Queen eyed the weapon with a chilly distaste, and she impatiently motioned for quiet from her subjects.

"It seems that this would be an eventful occasion for us." She looked at both groups. "We thank you for such a momentous time-" she inclined her head.

"And for us as well." Jace replied smoothly.

He stood quickly and everyone followed suit. Jace led the way to the entryway, but as Clary tried to move forward, she tripped back. She tried again, this time more forcefully and she nearly bounced back and stumbled. Simon caught her before she fell over. Before anyone could speak, the Queen continued as if there had been no interruption.

"I beg for your indulgence. I ask only a few more moments of your time."

"What is this, my lady?" Jace asked.

There was no more politeness in his voice, and he had tacked the title in as an afterthought. He looked at the Queen through suspicious eyes. For the first time that night, he looked dangerous.

"I rather thought, since you had nothing to bring but unfortunate news, and no parting gifts, I would like to give you one. It would be rude for me not to give such esteemed guests something. After all-" she gestured to the Hunters. "They have what they sought after, did they not?"

"So you're forcing us to accept a present?" Jace couldn't keep the sarcasm from his voice. "Or am I wrong in thinking we can leave anytime we want?"

He tried to push the vine curtain back. His hand stood flat against it, the muscles in his whole arm stood out.

The Queen held up one delicate finger. "If a mortal who steps foot into my court, and eats or drinks anything of my house, then they are bound to me. It is as binding as my words, the magic of the Faerie Queen."

"We didn't drink anything!" Clary protested.

"Didn't you?" she raised one delicate eyebrow.

Jace slowly turned to Clary. She flushed at his incredulous disapproval, but before she could make a protest, she blanched at a sudden thought.

"The sprite-it bit me."

Jo suddenly nodded, her expression cleared to realization at the same time as Simon's. This joke was on Clary, and said girl scowled at the Queen.

"So none of us can leave until you give us our gift?" she asked.

The Queen gave a serpentine smile. "You all came together, you all leave together. That is what companions are for, are they not?"

"Okay, so where is it?" Jace spread his hands expectantly.

Simon had a similar look, eyes glancing around for something that looked remotely present like. His eyes fell on the fabric that held the colt.

"How about that?" he asked the Queen.

She smiled at the suggestion and for a moment, it looked like she really might give it to them. The she wriggled in her seat; it was a girlish, seductive motion and she looked as if she was too bashful and excited to say whatever it was that she really wanted from them. On anyone else, it could have been charming, but her eyes held too much menace. Sam could feel the dread fill up the room like lead, and the Queen seemed to be enjoying that too.

She gave the cloth a glance. "Yes that would look lovely on her. You have good taste for such a young…creature." Simon flushed, and backed away. "But what she desires the most is something that is beyond her grasp."

"What kind of crap is that?" Jo muttered.

"Very potent 'crap.'" Jo jumped at the Queen's reply. "It will be a kiss that will leave her unbound."

"So I kiss someone, ok." Clary tried not to shiver. "No big deal."

"Lots to choose from." Jace joked, but it was ruined by his bleak expression.

Simon made an indignant noise. "Um hello?" he pointed to himself.

Simon moved away from Isabelle and strode over to Clary. He gave her a reassuring smile, but hers was too shaky. Simon gripped her shoulders lightly, red faced from the close scrutiny of everyone else. Clary nodded in acquiescence. She felt herself heat with embarrassment and she closed her eyes tight. Simon's breath tickled her lips and she fought to keep nervous giggles back.

His lips were on hers. It was light and soft, and any other time she would have been comfortable with it. She wasn't now, and she tried not to pull away, her hands twitching by her sides. They sprang apart.

"Tada!" Simon shouted in a too loud voice.

"There done. Ok, let's go." Clary made for the exit, only to be pushed back again.

She quickly avoided Simon's face. She just knew that she'd find incredulous hurt and betrayal. She couldn't blame him. Clary knew that she just gave a wound so deep, she might as well as stabbed him with a sword. She felt a rush of anger at not only the Queen but herself.

"What about Isabelle?" Dean suggested.

"Dean!" shouted Jo and Sam in unison.

He raised his hands in surrender.

"I'm just saying. I'm sure she doesn't want us to just all form a line."

"Oh what would you know?" came an irritable reply. It could have been anyone.

"Does it have to be Clary?" Sam asked the Queen.

"I have made my terms obvious."

"Well that's a yes." snapped Dean. He turned to the others. "No offense to any of you, but I'm really not in the mood for an orgy."

"None taken."

"How about Cas?" Isabelle spoke up. "He's angel, and he doesn't seem affected by magic, maybe he could take the spell off."

"I am-"

"Wait, can angels even kiss?"

"No." Dean spoke up, looking mortified. "He can't. He's still a-"

"Well we gotta get out of here somehow."

"I don't wanna be stuck here forever."

"Any better ideas?"

Clary glanced up, everyone was speaking at once. She trembled and glanced back at the Queen, who followed with amusement, and she gestured for another cup to be brought to her. Clary gritted her teeth, feeling an anger that was sending her reeling.

"Look." she spat at the Queen. "Just tell me who to kiss. Since you probably have someone in mind."

Everyone stopped arguing. The Queen preened from the undivided attention. She didn't speak, but she let her stare bore into Clary before dragging her gaze away to rest on Jace then looked back at Clary. Clary heard herself gasp, felt herself gasp. Her chest rattled from the sound.

"Aren't they siblings?" Jo asked slowly, as if to make sure she got it right.

"Yeah." Isabelle looked agonized for Jace, her dark eyes full of grief.

Dean made a noise, but was cut off from Sam as Jace glared at the two. Dean looked disgusted, not at Jace or Clary, but rather at the Queen.

"You think that's fun? That siblings like hearing about how 'hot' they'd look together? Like it wouldn't-"

"Shut up." Isabelle's voice was soft with a dangerous sorrow.

Dean nodded once in apology. Sam cringed, avoiding the Queen's eyes.

"You don't have to do this you know." Simon assured Clary.

"Unless we would like to stay here forever." Cas deadpanned. "The Queen would enjoy that."

Clary could feel the hot well of tears blur the room, humiliation scorching her. She only looked up when she heard the click of a hammer pulling back. Dean had loaded the colt and pointed it at the Faerie Queen. The fey that lounged beside her suddenly sprang up with shrieks, knocking over cups and trays. Liquid drenched the ground, and fruits and cakes squished underneath feet. They tripped over themselves in haste to get as far away as possible. A few smaller ones were not as lucky as they were trampled on. Courtiers pressed themselves against the walls, shouting.

Meliorn shouted, his cries bringing forth more armored faeries; they had drawn out their weapons, and warily encircled them. Guns had been drawn, and Jace and Isabelle held cylinder-esque objects in their hands, and they glowed dimly. Isabelle looked ready to shout, but Jace shushed her, and put himself in front of Clary. Simon was gaping, and appeared unable to say anything coherent. Isabelle shoved him behind her.

Sam had shot a warning look to Dean, but kept a tight grip on the handle of his gun. Some of the armored faeries had edged closer, lips pulled back into vicious snarls, and braced for a fight, their weapons raised. Meliorn made to rush into the fray but pulled up short when Cas suddenly moved in front of him, and he matched Meliorn in fierceness.

Dean had the satisfaction of seeing the Queen surprised, but she didn't show fear as she stared down the barrel of the gun. She moved slowly, and when she next spoke, her voice was honeyed.

"I have many knights." she gestured to the armored fey surrounding them. "My enchantments are some of the most powerful ever seen, mortal." she smiled. "Even if you do manage to kill me you will not leave here alive."

Dean shook his head, as if trying to see past a heat wave. "Maybe, maybe not. But we-" he gestured to Sam, Jo, and Cas without taking his eyes off the Queen. "Have got enough between us to put up a fight. Plus, an angel, who will smite your ass all the way into next week." he gave her a tight smile. "So here's a trade: you let us go. _All_ of us and you get not to die. Sound good?"

"Dean…" one of the Shadowhunters warned. " Think about this-"

"No!" Clary shouted suddenly. "It's ok, I'll do it."

Clary pushed past Jace, and willed the Queen to look at her.

"I'll do it. Just let us go, and we won't bother you again. I'll do it, and you don't hurt anyone." she pleaded.

The Queen made an imperious gesture, and the fey knights reluctantly stepped back, looking disappointed that they wouldn't spill any blood. Meliorn glared fiercely at them all. Her expression was wicked and she leaned back. As if to say, she was going to get her way no matter what. She waved her hands together, motioning for Clary and Jace to face each other. Jace looked as if he had swallowed some live thing, and it was clawing its way through his insides.

"It's okay." Clary tried to get her voice to stop trembling.

"Of course. This doesn't mean a thing."

"Of course."

Clary exhaled loudly, blowing out air. She bounced in place and waved her hands. Almost like a nervous athlete warming up. Jace stood inches from her, not moving; Clary figured he must be too nervous to be able to make her feel better. She will herself to stay ramrod straight, like she would for a dentist to examine her teeth. Jace grabbed her shoulders and unlike Simon, his grip was like iron. His hands burned into her, his heat was melting into hers.

"Think about whatever you want. Christmas, kittens, a unicorn…"

Clary wished Jace would shut up and get it over with already. His breath tickled her face, and then she got her wish. His lips were softer than she thought they'd be, and she shivered at the unbidden thought of what was behind them and what that could be like. His lips were closed, and she mewled. The kiss was perfectly chaste, and when he slowly pulled back, her face tickled and thrummed from the close approximation. It was like her body knew that Jace was only millimeters away from her, and was waiting for him to pull back. An expectation that had to be fulfilled, like the way the Earth expects the Sun to appear. A buzzing filled her ears, and Clary thought it might be her atoms waiting for his.

He rested his forehead against hers, his breathing hadn't ceased or relaxed. A wave of boiling heat covered her from scalp to toes, and something warm and salty was on her face. He must have noticed because he crooned nonsense to her. It was an action a real brother would do. If they had lived together and he was used to keeping her safe, chasing away nightmares, and fixing scrapes, and hugging her when boys broke her heart.

He was he brother and she had to keep herself from crying out in despair. Jace nuzzled into her hair, and his hands wrapped around her shoulders and he let more of his weight settled next to hers. Clary could feel her tears leave trails and imprints on Jace's face, sharing something else. Her heart jolted when his lips brushed her eyelids, his mouth wet with her tears.

Clary's knees gave, bones liquefied and she felt another gut twisted emotion of molten shame. Just being so close was enough to unravel her that she'd vibrate with tension and she'd wish for her organs to spill or her DNA to reassemble itself. She gasped in surprise when he kissed her again.

Jace pressed harder this time, and the pressure made Clary nearly collapse, and she grabbed his jacket, hands whipping wildly into action. Like magnets, their mouths opened together, almost against their will, almost instinctual. All the sound was pushed away from her; there was a barrier between them and the outside. There was only Jace and herself. Jace's arms wrapped around her like poisonous vines, his grip tight enough to choke her, and she wanted it. A traitorous, vindictive heat had pooled in between her legs and it competed with the shame that she felt on her face and the wailing inside her chest. Something deep inside her stirred, some primeval creature raised its head. Her gut trembled as she slid one leg in between Jace's.

'_This is wrong, this is so wrong-'_

Her hands snaked their way into Jace's hair. She thought it would have felt course, like a lion's mane, but it was silky soft. She could play with his hair all day; if they knew each other as children she would have drove him crazy. His hands moved to the small of her back, and she could feel the scars and calluses. It was a roadmap of war, and her back arched like a willow tree in the breeze.

If only-she wanted the kiss to plunge; she could smell herself become pungent, and leave traces on his skin. Her tongue was thick wriggling thing, searching blindly for some tight place. Suddenly it was a fierce tug and pull, and she wished Jace would snap her in half and then put her back together any way he wanted-

Suddenly Jace pulled away and it took all of Clary's willpower not to cry out. He was panting slightly and his gold eyes turned very dark, ringed with something she couldn't understand. Jace looked at her briefly, and she saw his lips were slick and reddened, and that a bruise would appear later on.

He turned to the Faerie Queen.

"Satisfied?" He glowered at her. "Hope you enjoyed the show." he spat, hate dripping off his words.

The Queen had reclined as far as cushions would allow. Her slim legs were rubbing together like some giant grasshopper, and her fingers were all about her mouth. Her eyes bored down on them, and they were dark as the bottom of a well. It was as if their desire had sparked her own. Her dress creased as she spoke.

"Very." she purred. "Almost as much as yourselves."

As she moved, and she did, even if she appeared to be still; she looked like some large monstrous insect queen, lounging in comfort as her conniving subjects brought her nourishment and amusement. She heaved a sigh.

"A bargain is a bargain. All of you are free to go."

TMISPN

It was for the most part silent as they waded out of the water. Conversations were only about who was going where, or errands. Except for Clary.

"Simon-" she called.

She looked wildly around for him, expecting him to just pop out of the water, but she knew he would be upset.

"Where is he?! I have to talk to him, explain"

Jace pointed to a hill. Simon was striding in the opposite direction, already covering a large distance. A figure was keeping pace with him, and Clary could just make out a streak of blonde hair.

"I don't think he wants to." Jace didn't sound unkind.

"But-" Clary felt Jace tug her back. He turned to the three men. "Your friend, Jo went with him."

Dean turned in time to see their figures become slivers in the distance. He sighed briefly.

"Well, she's got a cell phone."

Clary nodded, and bit her lip. She felt someone squeeze her shoulder and it might have been Sam. She followed them out of the water and onto the path to the car. Their shoes squelched on the pavement and the wind made her hug her jacket tighter to her. They were a very bedraggled bunch.

"Anyone need a ride?" Sam asked.

Dean almost scowled; the interior would take a beating for this, but he didn't say anything. Isabelle turned to Jace; she looked like she wanted to reach for him, but something in his expression held her back.

"No thanks." Isabelle replied. "I need to get to Magnus's and tell them what's happened."

Isabelle turned to Clary expectantly; she looked oddly vulnerable. Clary trembled; Isabelle was a much better sister than she was, and Clary knew what Isabelle was getting at. To leave Jace alone for now.

'_I'm sorry Isabelle. You really are a better sister.'_

"No thanks."

Clary turned away to avoid Isabelle's expression. Jace cleared his throat.

"Would you mind taking me back to the institute? I have a few things to pick up."

"Sure."

Jace slid into the back seat with a nod of thanks, Cas followed him, and Clary went in wordlessly behind him. Sam gave one last look to Isabelle before they slammed the doors and drove off.

TMISPN

Simon hurried down the deserted street with only Jo for company. He didn't mind. She hadn't said a word so far, and when they were at a distance comfortable enough for him, he slowed down. It was late, or early, but still night, the moon high in the sky; Jo didn't check her watch, or look at the street signs. She just waited. Simon wasn't sure for what, but he wanted to break the silence. In a way, he was afraid that by doing that, it would acknowledge that what happened in the Seelie Court actually happened, but what if he didn't? What if he just pretended that everything was ok? Clary and Jace flashed in his mind, and he suddenly knew that he didn't want to pretend.

So he started to talk.

"Surprised that it's still night." It would be good to start small.

"Oh?" she looked at him curiously.

"The Faerieland has a time difference. Sometimes you could be in there for days and not know it."

"Oh." she continued. "That's really creepy."

"They're creepy."

"Creepiest things I've seen in a long time." Jo replied.

"Them too." Simon paused, taking a breath. "Shadowhunters too."

Jo looked surprised.

"Aren't they your friends?"

He laughed, and was surprised at the bitterness. "Not really. They treat me like crap. I think they only let me hang around em' because of Clary."

"Your girlfriend. Isn't she a Shadowhunter?"

"Only until recently. On both counts. She and Jace were raised apart and didn't even know each other existed until a couple of weeks ago. Now she's all gung ho to be one too. She thinks they're so cool, and Jace-well he's the coolest."

Jo's shoes sloshed with water, it was the only sound next to Simon's voice.

"He was so…smug, arrogant and Clary looked at him like he was an anime superhero come to life, and she always looked like she was just waiting for something to happen and sweep her away to adventure. She always had that look, you know? Like someone's in their head, in places where you can't follow. I knew-I knew. That as soon as she met some like that, like Jace-she'd-" he took a shaky breath. "She'd just take off. In a heartbeat."

Jo wasn't looking at him with pity, but maybe something else. Simon was glad; pity was horrible to give to somebody, a consolation prize, a very nice _'oh, here you go.' _He just wasn't sure if she'd know what he was talking about, it was so personal.

"It sucks to be left behind." she said. "My dad used to be a hunter, before. He died."

Simon wasn't going to say I'm sorry. It wouldn't be adequate, and anyway he knew how she felt.

"Mine too."

Jo smiled. "Although yours probably from something else." she didn't sound chiding or bitter, just a gentle matter of fact-ness. "When he died, I got his knife. Mom didn't want me to get into hunting, but I wanted to have something in common with Dad. I never really got to know him and I want to think that I make him proud. I love doing this job."

Simon must have looked incredulous, because she laughed.

"I know right? But this was the only thing that I really liked. It's scary as hell, and you never know what's gonna happen next but…helping people feels good. The ones you can save anyway."

"Huh."

He liked hearing her talk. So full of serious hope, and he kinda had the feeling she might have been telling him it was ok. Not being a Shadowhunter, or how he felt. It didn't make it any easier, but knowing someone knew that felt great. Sometimes you needed a stranger more than a friend.

"They really do care for each other." She knew what he meant.

"Well they were raised apart right?"

Simon grimaced. "I don't know if that makes it better or worse."

"I'm not sure either."

"I don't blame Clary, but I wanted to hate Jace. Still do, but…I feel horrible for trying to."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I saw the way he looked. The whole time. I thought he was just stringing her along, and would quit when he found out he's her sister, but that's not it. He feels the same way she does…and its killing him."

Jo regarded him silently. "I didn't look at him. Or…I didn't look at them. It was hard to watch, so I looked at you. That was pretty hard to watch too."

So they were even. She knew that he wasn't gonna get over Clary. They walked on in silence once again, the subject seemed closed; nothing more needed to be said.

TMISPN

At the Institute, everyone piled out.

"I just need an hour or so." Jace assured. He sounded strangely young. "That's cool with you?"

Clary raised an eyebrow at his out of turn phrasing, but it was the easiest thing to think of so far. Dean nodded as if it was obviously okay, but didn't say anything else.

"I'll stay here too." she was surprised to hear that her voice sounded like lead. "I'm a Shadowhunter. I can escort you back."

She was sure she saw them exchange a look, or try to say something. They seemed to think better of it. Clary was pretty sure they knew that there was nothing to say. Or maybe they just thought it was none of their business.

"Ok." Dean started the ignition. "We'll be back soon. Just call us when you're ready."

"Thanks." Jace's eyes still looked dark, but maybe they were a little grateful too.

The two of them watched the car slowly turn down the lane and they walked inside. Clary shivered when they went inside; the air was cold, and all the lights were doused. They rode the clanging elevator in silence, and when they stepped into the foyer, no one, not even Church greeted them.

"I'm going to grab a shower."

"I'll just wait here."

Jace looked firm. "No. Come in my room. I've got some clean clothes you can change into."

Clary mutely followed him. His room was still the same Spartan clean that she remembered, with no posters, books, or personalized sheets. Nothing to suggest that anyone really lived in it. She felt a twinge of sadness. He didn't make a home for himself. She remembered her old room, the way it was before Valentine's servants destroyed it and she blinked back tears. Even though it was gone forever, some memories of it remained at Luke's house, and Simon's-

She flipped out her cell phone, trying to be discreet. Jace had already laid out some clothes for her and his back was to her; he was getting ready for his shower. She stared at her phone, trying to gather her courage. She sighed, gently let it thump on Jace's bed and began to change.

The water hissed to life, and steam was starting to gather beneath the door. Clary lifted the shirt, smelling it. It was clean. It smelled of soap, fresh and full of Jace-scent. It was a little wrinkled, but she didn't care. If Jace knew how to do his laundry perfectly, then that would just be a little too weird. She glanced down at her phone. Clary quickly scrolled through and clicked Simon's number.

It just kept ringing. With just the dial tone, her nerves got even jumpier.

"What are you doing?"

Clary jumped, and spun around. Jace was in a towel, skin slicked with water and suds still clung to golden muscles. Clary's insides felt a delicious shiver go through her; the creature inside her lifted its head, sniffing the air. She wanted to hate him for appearing like that. His eyes narrowed when he saw her fingers were clutching her phone, its burring audile despite the running showing.

"You were calling rat-boy weren't you?" his voice accusing.

Clary clenched her teeth. "Simon. He saved your life remember? All our lives. What's your problem?"

Jace glared at her but said nothing. His gold eyes had a strange glint to them, but Clary couldn't figure it out.

"Besides." she continued, hearing Simon's voicemail switch on. "He's not picking up."

Jace's face filled with exasperation. "Obviously not. I saw his face, I was _looking _at him."

His voice was filled with something incredulous and condescending. As if to say:

"_He is your friend, and I was paying better attention than you."_

Clary gave Jace a fierce glare; she knew what he really meant, and now he knew that she did too. She had the childish urge to shout that she was Simon's friend first, and Jace had no right to tell her about her own friend, someone he didn't even like.

"Exactly why I should! It was my fault-"she shouted, ignoring Jace's expression.

'_Because I should have been paying attention. I had forgotten about him entirely, when I should know better.' _she thought with a guilty squirm.

"No it's not-besides, I started it."

He moved forwards, ready to embrace her. At the thought, the creature sat up, intrigued, whining hungrily. Clary threw up her hands to ward it off. Jace stood back a pace, his face looking pained.

"Clary-"

"Your all wet." she knew it was flimsy excuse.

Jace knew it too. His eyes turned flinty, trying desperately to cover up pain. He seemed to be struggling to say something, and Clary wanted her phone again. She made a grab for it but Jace was too quick and he batted it out of her hands. It went skittering to the floor. Clary didn't bother to retrieve it.

"So you'll just run away? Run away to use Simon, or maybe me next time?"

Clary was shocked. "Use Simon?! What they hell are you talking about?!"

Jace moved forward again; he was determined to get something. "You don't really love him."

It was his matter of fact tone that angered Clary most of all.

"Of courses I do! How dare you tell me how I feel, just because you're my brother doesn't give you any right to tell me how I can and can't feel. You don't own me-"

Jace cut her off. "I'm not saying it because I'm your brother; I'm saying it because you want to hide behind Simon-to stop this-"

At 'this', he gestured to the space between them. To everything that had happened. Not only from last night but also the night of her birthday, the battle at Renwick's, and discovering that their father was Valentine. All of it the essence of their relationship and whatever it was between them.

"I know it scares you. It scares me too. But Clary-" he gripped her arms tight. "It's ok, this can work-"

Clary wanted desperately to lean into his touch, like affection would allow. She couldn't see a way that touching him wouldn't wake that creature up, that it wouldn't cry in delight. That she couldn't even show affection, that even the most innocent gestures would have a double meaning, some kind of perversion. Then she knew: this was how she felt. Her body did want that, even if her mind cried out in despair, the rest of her wouldn't listen. She didn't know how to make it go away.

Her expression must have shown on her face because Jace tried to move toward her again, and Clary nearly cringed in fear.

"No." she tried to avoid his stare. "We can't give into this-"

Jace had stepped back as if she'd slapped him. She felt her face twist in agony at his reaction.

"This?"

"Whatever it is, at the Seelie Court-"

"Which we had to do." he cut her off.

"Yes, but not like that. You shouldn't have kissed me like that."

Jace's voice was hard. "Then why'd you let me?"

Clary tried to keep herself in check. Under his hard gaze, she quivered and the creature inside knew how to remedy this, and say all the words that could be said. She shut her eyes tight, trying to cram the creature back in the cage. She hoped her voice would be steady.

"I shouldn't have."

She watched his face crumple briefly; whatever deep thing he was feeling got crushed before he could voice it. Shot down without a word. Was that better or worse than having said it, letting the weight of the words become reality and then be pushed away? Clary couldn't tell. She watched his face go through the spasms of concealing pain before anger took over, and then the smooth glide of cool disdain and disinterest.

"Well, I guess not." he turned his back on her, a clear dismissal. "I hope none of the hot water ran out." he said lightly and as if it was just to himself, but really she knew what it meant.

The door slammed, and strands of hair fluttered around her face. Clary stared down at the floor. It was blurry, and she bent down to retrieve her phone. She flipped it open, scrolling through the numbers. Luke's name was visible, his number fuzzy.

She knew she should call him, tell him what happened. But the thought of facing him and knowing what she had done, filled her with shame. Sinking down onto the bed, she clutched her phone and cried.

TMISPN

After what felt like forever, Dean finally pulled into the parking lot of a 24-hour Laundromat. He sat for a moment, slowly pulled the keys out of the ignition.

"That." he breathed. "Was crazy."

Sam snorted. "I'll say. Pulling the colt on the Queen of Faeries? You've done some stupid things before, but…"

"Yeah, yeah. It's been said, but did we really know that she'd keep her word?" He continued. "We're lucky to have gotten the colt as it is!"

"How did she acquire the gun?" Cas asked.

"Crowley." Dean replied. "Which you would have known if you went with us." he rolled his eyes.

"That is troubling."

"Yeah well what'd you expect?" Dean snapped.

"No, I wasn't referring to that."

"Then what?" Sam asked.

"What the Queen said…"

Dean turned to look at Cas. "She said a lot of things."

"True, but Faeries cannot lie. They are physically unable to; it is a part of their magic."

"Okay…" Dean replied slowly.

"Faerie magic is binding. When they make bargains, they must adhere to them. Twist them anyway they please, yes, but they have to honor the commitment." Cas put in, leaning forward from the backseat.

"We know that." Dean shot back. "Well, we know that now, but what does that have to do with anything?!"

"Dean." Sam gave his brother a look. He turned in his seat. "What are you getting at Cas?"

"The Shadowhunters. She called them Nephilim."

He really was troubled by this. Dean shot his brother an aggrieved expression, but Sam seemed to know what Cas was talking about.

"What is that?" Dean asked.

"A legend." Sam explained. "A section of the Bible tells a story about how a group of angels fell in love and had children with humans. Nephilim are those offspring."

"Which is not possible." Cas sounded strained.

When the two men looked back at him, he amended himself.

"Or rather, if it was The Host would not allow it."

Dean snorted; he made his opinions on the rest of Cas's family vocally known in the past. He opened the door and Sam and Cas followed suit. A lot of things they shouldn't have allowed to happen, they did, and things that would have been perfectly okay were completely out of the question. He had said this before and did so now. Cas looked aggrieved, but not because of what Dean was saying.

"True enough, but this would be…" Cas shook his head, as if amazed at the notion.

"Too big?" Sam supplied.

Cas nodded, looking grateful for the assistance. "Very. I'm not sure how it is even possible…I've certainly never heard of anyone who had any proof of this."

"Well, maybe they were lying to you guys. Wouldn't be the first time." Dean reasoned.

Sam made a noise of agreement, and they began to pile clothes. Cas looked nonplussed as Dean began pushing a bag into his arms.

"Let's go."

Sam grabbed the laptop; ignoring Dean's teasing "Geek", and walked in. Cas started to speak again, looking considering.

"Although, I might have the proof before me." he mused.

"What makes you say that?" Sam asked as he helped Dean pile laundry onto a table.

"The fact that they even had an angelic sword in their possession-a rather powerful one I might add. They have odd weapons I have never seen before but I _felt _them. They use some kind of script. It resembles Enochian, and in several different variants it seems."

Sam powered on the laptop as Dean sorted and put their clothes in the machine. Dean tugged on Cas's trench coat, when Cas stared at him uncomprehendingly he explained.

"You're not a cartoon. You can't wear the same things every day, besides this is soaking wet."

He reached into the bottom of one of their bags. He found a shirt and jeans at the very bottom, which meant they were the cleanest. He put them in front of Cas.

"Here"

Cas stared at them for a moment before peeling off his coat. Dean grabbed it and stuffed it into a machine. Cas began to change, ignoring their looks. They were the only people there.

"There was another thing." he said. "They had an odd…power."

"You mean that echo thing you were talking about?" Dean leaned on the edge of the table.

"Yes. It had a vague resemblance to our grace."

"Grace is what makes an angel an angel right?" Sam asked, typing quickly.

"That is the simplest way to put it." Cas replied. "These Shadowhunters don't have it, so I shouldn't feel this…connection."

"Connection?" Dean asked.

"It's hard to describe."

"Ok, here's something." Sam announced.

He loaded up a page. It looked like a site on archeology, taking about an old dig and what had been discovered. One picture showed a large skull, dusty with age, but it was still apparent that the skull was human, or human shaped.

"That kids, is what happens when a dinosaur and a caveman love each other very much." Dean commented.

"Not your best work there Dean." Sam countered. "I got this because they named it after Nephilim."

Sam pulled up another tab, clicking away and revealing a biblical text.

"According to some legends, Nephilim were giants. The story goes on to say that when a pair of angels who sired some of these creatures, they went to a pious old man named Enoch. They wanted him to speak to God on their behalf. Long story short, when they get there, God isn't too happy with them. God then praises Enoch, and he gets to stay in Heaven and becomes Metatron the voice of God."

"Metatron was never a man." Cas replied, confused. "Your Bible has some misapprehensions."

"Tell me about it." Dean replied.

"Which brings me to Enochian-"

"Named after the Enoch guy?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, apparently he was the last human to know the angel language and he recorded some of it. Its incomplete, but…" he looked thoughtful. "I'll need more than just this." he gestured to his computer.

"They had an odd phrase." Cas said. "'By the Angel.'"

"As in By God?" Sam asked.

"It was an exclamation. So yes, I believe so."

"Strange lives." Dean commented.

Jo and Simon turned down another corner, this one more deserted than the last. They had been progressively getting into the rougher part of the city, or well one of them at any rate. Simon had picked up his pace, and Jo had to catch up. His pace seemed almost trace-like, but he said nothing of it. A couple hundred feet away was and old building with a broken sign, its letters cracked and rusty, one letter was gone entirely.

Simon stopped short and blanched when he saw the building. Jo hurried to get to him. She stopped when she got to his side, watching him stare at the building with undisguised horror.

"What? I know this is pretty shady neighborhood, but we've been in it for a while now-"

Simon didn't answer, but instead pointed to its sign.

_The Dumort_

Jo looked nonplussed. She had taken enough Spanish to know what it meant, but it was just an abandoned building. Jo stepped forward to get a better look; she heard Simon's intake of breath, and the sound of his shoes crunching on litter. It was deserted, and the windows were boarded in a few places, but some had been covered in tarp and held in place with bricks. The ground around it was surrounded by grime and trash. A few scrawls of graffiti looked hastily painted on, but it looked like someone took the trouble to whitewash it.

The place did have an air of old grandeur, since it used to be a hotel. It had the popular old design of a chain. Probably built when the area was still a rich residential district and the only people who lived in this particular section were the upper class white families. Of course time and immigration changed all that, but the building hadn't forgotten, even if its glory had faded.

Still, something about it was off-putting. Jo felt her instincts prickling, and she tried to peer into the cracks. It was completely dark, but she could have sworn she just saw something move-

Jo sprang back, pushing away creeping vines and decided to leave it be. Her shoes crunched on glass, and she almost hissed at the sound she made; freezing, she just began to look around with just her eyes. Dread made her keep the building somewhere in her line of sight as she slowly inched away.

"Simon?" she said, not bothering to raise her voice.

He wasn't where he used to be. He wasn't anywhere. Normally, she wouldn't have been too fussed, but this could get dangerous, especially for a white boy who doesn't know how to fight. She looked down at the ground; a streetlight illuminated a still-soggy shoe print.

'_Guess it's my lucky day.'_

She followed the prints to an alleyway; it used to be a service entry for delivery trucks, now it was littered with trash, and a dumpster that was shunted sideways. Its contents overflowed. Something white glinted off to the side, hanging out of the lid's catch, and dangling there. Even from this distance, Jo knew it was a bone. She lightly moved forward; it was picked clean, ravaged by teeth marks, and entirely too white. Not human, but from some smaller animal.

She glanced around. This didn't seem like the place to throw away your dog's table scraps, and she peered into the dumpster and saw more of them. She reached into her messenger bag for a knife. She let the tip of the blade poke through the trash, more bones were inside. They were all shapes and sizes, and she was relieved to see that none of them appeared to be human. A sound clanged and skittered. Jo willed herself not to jump.

She walked to the wooden broken fence and peered inside. The back of the hotel was just as creepy, and this yard was littered with more garbage and bones. Another rustle and she could see a dark head of hair bobbing frantically.

Simon. She hurried to his side and grabbed his shoulder. He yelped and spun around. When he saw it was her, he relaxed.

"You scared the crap out of me!" he whispered.

"What are you doing?"

Simon didn't flush, and he didn't quite look guilty; he was hiding something, but it was making him afraid. His eyes were wide, saucer sized and confused.

"What's going on?" she kept her voice just sharp enough to get a decent answer.

Simon took a deep breath. "Something happened to me when I met the Shadowhunters."

He began to fiddle with a grate on the ground. His fingers were frantically playing with the metal, scraping against its ridged surface. He began to speak again as he did so.

"When Clary was trying to find out what she was, we had to visit someone. A warlock-Magnus."

The grate gave a little, and Simon's fingers wriggled beneath the gap and he began to tug.

"So Magnus-he was throwing a party, and when I went there, I drank something." he made a face; it would have been funny any other time. "I turned into a rat. I know crazy right? Well it happened-"

"I believe you." Jo cut in.

The muscles jumped and strained as Simon tugged with all his might. The grate gave and Simon dropped it when he was suddenly met with no resistance. He winced at the sound, managing to become even paler.

"There were these people-" Simon shuddered, seemingly unable to continue. "They took me back with them."

"These people?" Jo looked up at the hotel with new horror. "The people who live here?"

"Yes." he whimpered. "They thought I was one of them-and" he choked off, near tears. "I might be-"

"When you were a rat? How is that possible?"

Simon moaned low in his throat and he stared at his feet in horror as they seemed to move on their own accord. His hands frantically pushed rot and garbage away from the grate's entrance. He tried to prevent a scream as his body braced and began to lower itself inside the grate. He was beginning to disappear.

Jo reached inside, and her hands only grabbed air. She bit back a curse and pushed herself feet first down the grate. When her feet touched the ground, she blinked. It was dark, but she couldn't wait for her eyes to adjust, she had to get to Simon.

He wasn't hard to find; the only sounds were coming from him. Simon had stuck one of his fists in his mouth, and his breathing was short. Jo could almost hear him biting his knuckles.

"I'm right behind you. Don't scream."

Jo reached for him. He still jumped, even if he didn't make a sound. She felt for his shoulders; he was shaking. They were still walking and as Jo's eyes adjusted, she could see it was some kind of hallway.

"Listen." she whispered in his ear. "I need to know what's going on, but I need your help. You're going to have to calm down. Can you do that?"

Simon slowly removed his hands from his mouth. He drew in a shaky breath, and nodded.

"Thank you. Ok, first: you were a rat?"

Simon might have smiled. This would have been funny if it wasn't actually happening. He nodded again.

"When I was brought back here, they mistook me for one of them." He continued on, "I didn't know if anyone was coming to save me. When they did, it got really messy and I bit one of the people who were holding me…hostage."

They came out of the hallway; Jo turned back. It was a servant's hall. It was in the old days, when the help couldn't use the same hallways as the guests, and had to take different routes. They walked forward, coming into a more elegant looking room. It reminded Jo of when she watched _The Titanic_ and the scene where they showed the grand staircase. This room was magnificent, or it used to be. For one thing, the staircase had been ripped out. Dust hung, clung and coated every surface. The dark wood of the furniture was dulled by it. Mold clung to the carpets, flying up into plumes when stepped on. Chandeliers and candelabras still gleamed, their candles dried out stumps. Wax clung to them and crusted on the edges, flecks covered tables and clung.

Jo glanced upwards. She could see an upstairs, its own hallway and its railings were missing in some places. Jo squinted. She just barely make out the rooms beyond them. She bristled; at any time, someone could just peer over the ledges on the hallway; here was even a smaller circular balcony to observe what was going on below. Almost like an opera house.

"Where are they?" she whispered.

"Here" he looked around. "They probably already know we're here."

"What do they look like?" Jo turned to him. "Simon, what do the rat-people look like?"

Simon could've squeaked. "Not…rat-people. Vampires."

At the word, he shuddered. He had said it so breathy that Jo was amazed she could have heard the response at all. She stared at him in shock; she couldn't tell if he could even see it, or how he would have responded.

'_Rat People…are vampires? How could they mistake Simon for one of them? They can't transform or anything, but that does explain the bones. They've been draining prey and just chucking them out when finished. I bet the garbage was just to hide it from anyone who'd prowl around. The smell alone would keep people away. This place is pretty dark for a nest and big too. Just how many of them are there?'_

"This is a nest?" she asked.

Simon just nodded; he seemed to be holding back sobs. Jo almost wanted to ask him if the Shadowhunters knew about this place, and if so why not just wipe it off the map. She rummaged in her messenger bag, and found what she was looking for: a knife holster. She strapped it her thigh and felt the reassuring weight of the knife resting inside. She had a flashlight; nobody like getting shined in the face with one no matter who they were. She pulled it out of her bag and handed it to him. Simon seemed to like holding something at the moment.

"So…you bit one and now you think you're turning into one?" she asked him.

"Correct." another voice answered.

Jo looked up. The upper floor was filled with them. They were vampires. Simon made another moaning noise. He sounded like a dying old man; out of the corner of her eye, she saw that his face had a deer in the headlights expression. He was facing the firing squad. She searched the crowd; there were at least a dozen, and some shadows suggested more.

'_Oh shit.'_

"So I really am turning into a vampire?" Simon sounded on the verge of hysteria.

"Oh yes." It sounded amused.

A young Hispanic man was at the head of the crowd. He couldn't have been more than fourteen, but Jo knew that couldn't be possible. His attitude suggested someone much older. He was surprisingly delicate looking, with pouty lips and curly dark hair. His skin still managed to keep some of its tone from when he was alive, and now it enhanced his looks. With his open white shirt and dark pants, he seemed come straight out of an Anne Rice novel.

Flanking him was a boy and girl; they looked a bit older, but she wasn't sure by how much. The girl had delicate Asian features, but her hair was a vivid blue. She was calmly looking down on them. Beside her was an extremely tall blond boy. His grin was wide and excited. Jo could see his teeth had descended and he flashed them at her. Even more were behind them. A boy with dreads, a pretty redhead, and many more.

"Thing is," the blond boy spoke up. "You wouldn't have if you didn't come back."

Laughter rang up, it was high and terrible. Jo gritted her teeth. She let her fingers brush a handle. Simon had switched on the flashlight; its bright orb wavered and trembled. He was shaking so hard that the lights' beam went all over the place, and it briefly raced across the gathered faces there. They narrowed their eyes at the light, but laughed all the same when he tried to hit them.

"Then, how-why'd I come back?" Simon didn't wait for an answer. "Please, just let us go!"

Another round of laughing shook the banisters. Jo shivered; they might not notice anything else but the hammering of her heart…

"Of course not. You have trespassed onto our territory-for a second time. Clave Law states that we can do whatever we please with people who come willingly into our home."

'_Clave Law?' _Jo thought back to her car ride in The Impala, getting a rundown from Sam. _'Is that the law of the Shadowhunters? Their government…thing? They actually make laws with these-things?!' _Jo remembered Jace's angered words earlier that day-_ 'The hotel! Of course, when Simon said they made it out ok, they were referring to this place. Jace said they barely made it out alive. So I guess nobody is coming to save our asses then.' _

Simon turned to Jo, his face contorted with agonized grief. "I'm so _sorry_-" he choked. "You were just trying to look after me, and I got you involved." he looked ready to pull out clumps of his hair.

Jo took his hands briefly. "It's ok."

"He is right. You will die right alongside him." the Hispanic vampire said.

Jo grimaced. She let her breath hitch, as though she might cry. Some started to laugh once more. With just a fast flick of her wrist, she knew her aim was true; her knife sped forward and sank into the Hispanic vampire's forehead, right between the eyes. The laughter abruptly stopped as the vampire went crossed-eyed and fell the floor.

"Raphael!" one of them shouted.

"Hurry!" shouted Jo.

She grabbed Simon's arm and raced away from the vampires.

"Which way?" she shouted.

"Ugh…" Simon strained to remember. He suddenly pointed. "That way!"

He pointed to another servant's hallway. Vampires were racing behind them, almost close enough to overtake. Simon screamed. The blue haired girl had grabbed him and was holding him in an iron vice. Jo was yanked back by the handle of her messenger bag. She gasped at the unexpected lance of pain. Before anyone could react, Simon shined the flashlight in the eye of the vampire that was holding Jo back. She turned around and kicked out hard. Her boot connected with the vampire's jaw. There was a small, but audible crick. The vampire stumbled back in surprise. He rubbed his jaw in disbelief, squinting wildly at them. Jo winced when she put her weight on her leg. The blue haired vampire snarled, almost too surprised to do anything other than stare, but Simon stared back in shock and Jo pulled him to the servants' entryway. Blue hair recovered from her shock and threw herself at them. Simon screamed again and they stumbled into the hallway. It had a door, and they struggled to hold it shut as the vampire slammed herself into it.

"Which way?" Jo cried. "Which way to the exit?"

Simon blinked hard, trying to overcome panic. He pointed to the right. Jo nodded.

"Okay, grab my gun out of my bag and hand it to me." at his blank look she shouted. "Now!"

Simon jumped, and bent down, rummaging inside the bag. The door was slamming so hard, their teeth rattled and Simon nearly dropped the gun when he handed it to her. She talked and loaded it at the same time.

"You go first. I'll buy you some time."

Simon nodded, and sprang away from the door. He began to move forward and Jo moved away from the door. When she let up, the door sprang wide open and knocked Jo off her feet. The Blue haired vampire came out first, grinning over her. Jo unlocked and shot. It didn't make her do much but stumble back and Jo scrambled up off the floor.

"That tickles." Blue giggled.

Jo shot her again, holes widened in the girl's shirt. Jo all the while was quickly backing away. Shot after shot went into Blue, and behind her, more were appearing.

"That doesn't seem to be doing much."

Jo gave her a feral grin. "I know." she shot Blue again.

Jo and Simon raced up the stairs. Jo was having difficulty because she was moving backwards, Simon suddenly grabbed her shoulders to steady her and she had to reload. He shouted in alarm when she stopped shooting. The vampires shot through fast and Jo's rifle spilled out of her bag. Simon grabbed it, and with a terrified cry, swung it high in the air. It cracked down on the dreadlocked boy and Simon swung again, like a baseball player gone mad. The redheaded female made to stop him, but Jo had managed to reload. She shot Red, and blood spurted from her neck, bright as her hair.

"Bitch!" she shouted at Jo in a heavy Russian accent.

Red pinned Jo to the stairs, and she gasped. Pain bloomed all along her back, and she saw spots as Red bent down, her teeth sharp. Jo's arms flailed wildly, and she could hear Simon shout her name. Her hands found a knife and she grabbed the handle, sinking the blade into Red's neck. Red hissed in irritation. Jo's hands were slippery with blood and she drove the blade deeper into Red's neck. Irritation and anger became pain, and Jo felt the tug and yank of an artery. Red shouted, and Jo struggled to cut her target. Rough firm hands gripped her, intent on pulling her apart.

Jo's vision began to blur as the hands gripped her flesh. She couldn't tell if they were trying to strangle her or throw her off. A shot rang out. The hands slipped back. There was a surprised yelp. Jo found the strength to twist her knife a bit more, and suddenly there was no more resistance. She cut the artery and Red stumbled back, nearly collapsing onto another vampire. Jo twisted her head as she heard another shaky shot. Simon had picked up her shotgun and had managed to figure out how to shoot it. His aim was wild, but he didn't let up, eyes wide.

Jo gathered her things, stuffed what fell out of her bag and grabbed Simon.

"Come on." she rasped.

A vampire blocked the exit, he had moved forward. It was the one they called Raphael.

"That is far enough."

Simon made another horrified noise.

"Shoot!" Jo screamed.

Raphael moved before he could, slamming Simon into a wall. The Blond vampire made a grab for him and punched him in the stomach. His noise of pain was like nothing she had ever heard. Lightning fast, Jo was pushed down the stairs, into the arms of waiting vampires. She screamed and kicked out, struggling. Her messenger bag tangled around her, nearly cutting off her windpipe. She could feel mouths on her and she screamed again.

Stars were gathering up onto the ceiling. Her heart pounded, and she was being raised up-

'_Is this how I'm going to die? No…No! I refuse. I won't die like this!'_

She screamed, this time in anger. She twisted in time to see Simon struggle to stay upright. He launched himself at Raphael and Jo took that as her cue to jump. Pain vibrated through her feet and legs as she kicked out, connecting with flesh, faces, the walls. Her bag swung around, its contents flew again. A small piece of metal hit her in the face.

The flask of holy water. Pale hands went for her knives. Blond grabbed one, the initials W.A.H flashed across her vision. She unscrewed the cap of the flask without thinking. Blond twirled the slender knife.

"Did you really think something like this could hurt us?"

Red laughed; she was a little shaky on her feet, but still alive. Jo kept her eyes on them; Simon was held in a vice like grip by Raphael. He struggled weakly. Dark curls were brushing against his face. A cross dangled from Raphael's neck, its light glinted against Simon's cracked glasses. The shotgun lay abandoned at their feet.

Jo gripped the flask tight and flicked her wrist. A long arc of holy water hit Blond and few closest to him. They shrieked in pain as their flesh bubbled and popped. Blond dropped the knife and Jo darted forward and grabbed it before it hit the ground. She flicked out more holy water and the crowd jumped back to avoid getting splashed.

"Simon!"

The boy stared at her, then at the cross at Raphael's neck. They formed a wary circle around her, eyes flashing in hate. They watched her every movement as she shifted her stance. Jo gritted her teeth; Simon couldn't do anything with no weapon and Raphael was faster and would kill him before Simon had a chance to defend himself. Jo glanced down, once at the floor. The bar of iron, the shotgun with the rock salt, a few shells filled with salt. A couple of her knives littered the ground. Vampires were eyeing them as if they wanted grab them. Some others seemed to wonder which weapons she'd go for.

'_As soon as I go for them, they attack. They're too fast to dodge. I'll get overpowered as soon as I grab something. Sure a few will go down if I can get em', but someone else will just attack. They gang up and that'll be it. I need a distraction. What I need is Simon.'_

Jo sighed deeply. They edged forward, sure that was a sign of defeat. She tucked the knife away, moving her other hand slowly to let them know she still had her holy water. She must have dropped her hand gun in all the confusion. Jo couldn't see it anywhere. A ripple went through the circle, and Jo felt their decision to attack rather than saw it.

A loud cry made them turn their heads; Simon made a move. Jo dashed forward as Simon bit down hard on Raphael's ear. His fingers brushed the shotgun as Jo's grabbed the bar of iron. She ducked low as vamps surged forward to tackle her like linebackers. She kicked the shotgun forward and it descended into Simon's hand like a blade of holy origin. He struck the muzzle of the gun at Raphael, it scraped at his chin and Simon struggled to fire. The muzzle was caught on the chain of Raphael's cross necklace.

He took the shot anyway. Simon was pushed back by the blast, finally freed from Raphael's grip. The vampire stumbled back and Simon shouted as he raced up the stairs, with Jo following behind him. The screams and curses of the damned were right behind them. The stairs creaked underneath their feet, and those of their pursuers threatened to break them entirely. The two hurled themselves through a door frame and slammed the door shut behind them.

"Hurry!" Jo screamed. "Find something to brace the door!"

Simon dropped the shotgun and bolted down the musty corridor and vanished into a room. The door was rattling and Jo pushed with all her might. It felt like her all teeth and bones might pop out, or that she would pass out-

A heavy scraping came by and Jo was relieved to see Simon had come back. He was straining to push a dresser forward. It was huge and towered upwards. Jo wasn't even sure how he managed to get it into the hall, and she could see his muscles strain to keep moving it. She twitched impatiently. If only she could get to him-

"Come on, you're doing great!" she urged.

He shoved hard and it was close enough that she grabbed a corner and pulled.

"This won't hold for long." Simon panted.

"No. How'd you guys get outta here the last time anyway?"

"Werewolves. Long story, but they came in through the windows and fought off the vampires. We ran up to the roof."

"Wow-" she panted. "Crap. What'd you do before that? Can you remember?"

Simon shuddered. "I just remember what Clary told me after, and-"

The door rattled again. The thumping was more strained. It budged the two and the door and a white hand shout out. Simon yelled and the hand grabbed the collar of his shirt. Simon was quickly pulled into the doorknob, his face jammed between the crack between the door and the wall next to it. His screams got progressively louder as he groped for the shotgun. Jo reached forward, iron bar in hand as she struggled to pry Simon away. The metal was inches from Simon's face, his eyes wide.

"Do it!" he shouted.

Jo stabbed the bar at the hand. Only surprise made it loosen its grip, and Simon managed to wrench away by the skin of his teeth. He leapt back before slamming his weight into the dresser. The owner of the hand yelled when the door slammed heavily onto his hand, and only his fingers remained in the cracks. The vampire still hung tenuously onto the door's opening. Jo handed Simon the holy water and he poured it onto the fingers. A brief scream before the fingers wrenched themselves back, and together the two managed to shift the monstrous dresser in front of the door. It managed to block the door's frame entirely.

Simon wordlessly handed the holy water back to her. She capped it with a nod of thanks. Simon picked up the shotgun with shaky hands. He looked ready to slump down, but Jo shook her head and offered him her hand.

"Iron." he said.

"Huh?"

Simon was looking curiously at the shotgun; something glimmered on its barrel and Jo realized that it was the cross that Raphael had been wearing on his neck.

"Weird thing for a vampire to wear…" Simon mused.

"Well it can't hurt them." Jo turned to look at the door.

"Yes it can."

Jo turned back to him in confusion. Her look was mirrored on his face. He peered at her strangely.

"I saw the skin where Raphael was wearing it." he continued. "There was a burn."

"Ok."

"Crosses, silver, blessed iron, running-"

"Wait, iron?" Jo asked, cutting him off.

"If it's been blessed, then yeah. Isabelle tol-"

Jo snatched up the cross and used its chain to tie it around the bar of iron. Simon's eyes widened.

"What the hell." she muttered.

"Wait, you're going to bless the iron?"

Jo nodded quickly. She ran through a mental list of her Latin.

'_Crap, I really hope this works.' _

She tied the necklace to the bar and began to chant rapidly. It was probably a little off, but it would have to do. To be safe, she uncapped the flask and poured holy water over it. There was only enough left in the flask for a single swallow.

Simon was looking at her with wide eyes. She handed the bar of iron to him and he set the shotgun down and took it. Jo felt the sadness on her face; Simon would forever know what waited in the dark, and he stared up at her with big dark eyes.

"I won't let them hurt you." she promised.

"Thanks."

The door slammed and the two only paused to look at it.

"Run."

Simon didn't need to be told twice. They raced through. Rooms were open, almost like ones where the vampires slept; Jo could hear the wood of the dresser splinter impressively behind them. Jo picked up her pace, feeling her muscles burn. Simon suddenly turned and they were in some kind of parlor room, another old-fashioned glimpse into history. Simon didn't stop and went into some circular little alcove covered with a curtain. Jo pressed close to him as he parted the velvet hangings, its soft fabric brushing against Jo's face and making her shiver.

Simon pointed down, and Jo peered over the edge. She could see the grand staircase entrance from where they first came in. It was directly below them; they were on the balcony. Jo gripped the railings tight. Gilt frame came off in her hand. It was too high to jump down, at least not without taking some serious damage, which would make it difficult to crawl back up the grate-

"I commend your tenacity."

A pair of slight arms encircled her. Raphael pressed himself tight against her, and Jo shook with disgust.

"But it was hopeless from the very beginning."

She watched as more vampires came out of the curtain, rippling forward like some obscene nightmare as pale, horrible face stroked the velvet as they moved towards Raphael. Simon swung the bar and when one of them grabbed it, their hand burned. They cried out in anger. Simon wildly struck out, and one of the bolder vampires finally rushed forward, grabbing the bar and throwing it out of reach. He bleated in terror as they encircled him, and Jo could not move in Raphael's grip.

"You son of a bitch!" she spat at him.

Raphael only smiled. "It will be painless." he nodded to the others. "You may have him."

They cried out happily, drowning out Simon's cries. Hands grappled for him, and he was being pressed together against cold bodies and she could no longer see him. They took him away. They, almost as one being, jumped off the balcony.

"Simon!"

Jo struggled anew; Simon's screaming triggering fresh jolts of anger and terror. Raphael gripped her neck in a vice.

"Enough." His voice was still soft. "You will watch this."

The vampires had pounced, it was a flurry of movement and not being able to see Simon, but hear him so clearly made it even worse. He was going to die-

Jo slumped in Raphael's arms, and she felt his grip relax. She could feel her eyes narrow as her surroundings got blurrier.

'_Dad, what would you do? I…'_

Her eyes dully registered the scene before her, the monsters sprawled on top of Simon is some sick dog pile, their satisfied grunting couldn't possibly drowned out the awful sucking and slurping noises, or that Simon's voice was getting higher and higher, enough to cause Jo's ears pain. She let her gaze travel to the boards and tarp. It was all the way across the room from the balcony, and she remembered seeing them from the outside…

'"_They came in through the windows-" '_

Simon's voice unexpectedly rang through her mind. It gave her an idea, and she slumped down, as if all her strength had finally ebbed. Raphael managed to hold onto her before she fell onto the carpet. Her fingers were shaking and she bent down her head, feeling her neck ache and her hair tangle next to her face. When she looked up, Raphael was staring at her. She tried not to whimper. He hoisted her up, and she tried to struggle, but she was ultimately pliant.

"Now it is time for you."

As Raphael bent her forward, she realized she could no longer hear Simon. Raphael played with the strands of her hair, almost as if he were comparing them to his own. He admired them for a moment before gently brushing her hair away from her neck. She trembled when his lips pressed against her neck. His mouth was chilled and he was nuzzling into her. She kept her lips clamped firmly down as his nose brushed against her jaw line.

"Relax."

His voice was intoned with something, and Jo shuddered. His fingers suddenly moved and fixed her jaw in place. He had just enough space to stroke her cheek with his thumb. He had made her lips purse with the tips of his fingers. She felt the holy water slosh in her mouth as he looked into her face. He pressed his lips against hers, and she shuddered from their coldness. She whimpered at his touch, but he was forcing her lips open. Jo leaned into him, and kissed back. She blew hard, the liquid moving like a river and flowed from one mouth into another. Raphael made a gurgled noise of surprise and pain as the water scorched his mouth. Raphael tried to resist, but Jo pressed harder, forcing her tongue inside, pushing the water back down and into his throat. He gagged loudly, unable to force the water back up. Jo coldly looked into his eyes as his own started to roll back up into his head-

Jo pushed him off, and he stumbled back and slumped over. She grabbed one of the velvet curtains, bunching it tighter in her hands as she put her feet over and on top of the railing. She wobbled precariously, but she kicked off and she was suddenly swinging through the air.

Jo felt like one of those superheroes, the velvet curtain billowing behind her like a cape. Of course, if she really was one, than she'd have way better super powers. The ground was coming in faster. Jo slid, her feet skimming over the carpet. She felt the impact before she realized it, and it made her shake all over. She felt her feet thump onto the ground as she let go of the curtain. Jo hit the ground running. It was still a few yards away.

The vampires must have heard her, but she didn't think about it. She pumped her arms and legs like a marathon runner. Shouts and screams were behind her, and Jo clamped back her terror, willing the sounds to fade away. Her vision tunneled, leaving only the finish line to be seen. She could feel the blackness surrounding her, pressing against her body like a sheet. Only her heartbeat sounded in her ears, and she could no longer see the blackness. Fingers were brushing her, but she pressed forward, muscles screaming hysterically, and-

Her hands gripped tarp. Jo's fingers slid frantically, slicked with sweat and she nearly cried out and then she remembered-

Her knife. Somehow, her fingers were sure and steady as she pulled out her slim knife. She stabbed the tarp, feeling it give with every fiber of her being. She dragged the knife downward, and a rip appeared. She squinted; something bright was behind it, hard and sure. Jo tugged fervidly, like a kid unwrapping presents at Christmas and the tear was bigger and bigger until she used all her hands, every ounce of strength going into them.

The tarp came loose, and it poured in, like beams from Heaven-

Sunlight.

She gasped; she had been in the dark so long that it hurt her eyes and she blindly slashed at the remaining tarp. Her feet connected with the boarded up windows. She ignored the screams as the wood gave and splintered, she picked up the felled boards and used them to wrench open the remaining ones.

She peered inside; now that her night vision had been ruined. Sounds rushed back to her, and she realized that the screaming was coming from the vampires; they had moved away from the windows, but the light wouldn't leave anything unalleviated. It touched the carpets, stairs, banisters, furniture, and vampires.

Jo stared in shock. The vampires were _burning._ Not, burst into flames type of burning. It was as if they were lit up from the inside, and red patches were blooming all over their bodies, skin bubbling over, popping like bacon over a stove. Their skin slicked with sweat, as if fevered. Some were starting to steam, as if they were boiling beneath the surface and some scratched at their skin. They were a bunch of screaming, writhing lobsters, unable to escape the boiling pot that was the sun. It was as if they were in too much pain to move far away.

Smoke rose out of their ears and mouths roiling and rising. The stench was unbearable. The redness was turning dark in some places, charring and drying along wet flayed skin. Parts of the skin that hadn't been blackened were starting to slough off, blood bubbling, heated and unable to heal.

Few were managing to limp or crawl away. Black skin crackled as they moved, making them moan in pain. It was hard to find a place that hadn't been touched by the blood red sky. Jo looked down at her knife. W.A.H blazed like a ring of fire surrounding a blade that looked drenched in blood. Jo dashed back inside; Simon was clearly illuminated and completely motionless.

The vampires scooted away from her as if she were a piece of the sun, broken off and moving into their home like a righteous band of fire. Jo could feel the sun on her back as she bent down to Simon. She winced when she felt the puckered, swelling holes where he had been bitten. Jo gasped; she felt a pulse. It was faint, but tenuous-

A scream made her look up. A vampire with a charred face made to move forward. His teeth gleaming white against the rest of him, eyes reddened and crazed. Jo tensed-

"Stop."

The voice was thin and labored, but it was Raphael's. Jo couldn't see him, but he sounded as if he could barely stand himself. A banister groaned. She didn't know what was going to happen next.

"Wait."

Jo turned.

"Simon!"

Simon could barely lifted his head, and he gave her a weak smile and he looked in what Jo assumed was Raphael's direction.

"Just-" Simon rasped.

He seemed to be sharing something with Raphael, looking into the blackness at something Jo couldn't see, and a strange thrill went through her. It seemed to take an eternity.

"I see." Raphael finally spoke. "Very well."

TMISPN

_Clary was running; she was desperately searching for the other half. The ground beneath her feet was grassy and soft, and the countryside was so pretty that normally she'd stop to sketch it, but not today. _

_Buildings rose, and Clary couldn't tell if they were skyscrapers or something else. Her feet scraped across sand as she heard splashing. She blinked rapidly; her vision had seemed to waver suddenly, like a TV trying to get better reception, but it was over as soon as it came and she could see clearly again. _

_ She was standing on a beach, but there was a fountain-one she had dreamed of before. With the mermaid and when she danced there with Jace…and a figure was there as well. _

"_Jace!" she shouted._

_ She knew at once that it was not him. She did not understand how she could have mistaken it for Jace. For one, it was taller and somehow much more beautiful. Something about how it rippled with power, and could take to the skies-_

_ It turned and it was her mother. Her hair was pulled away from her face, tied into a gentle bun at the nape. It was held together with pencils, just as Clary remembered it would be. She was wearing a white dress that Clary had never seen before, but it made her look slim and girlish. _

_ Clary cried out, feeling tears in her eyes. She raced to her, into Jocelyn's outstretched arms. Clary felt them encircle her and finally found her home, but-_

"_Oh!" she pulled back suddenly. "Mom have you seen my-"_

"_There will be enough time for that later, darling."_

_ Clary mewled as her mother stroked her face. She just wanted to stay like this, and never go anywhere else. Clary felt another pang of something beneath it, almost like longing, but she had no idea what it was-or where it could be found. She just wanted her mother to hold onto until the feeling became bearable, to hold off leaving home-_

"_They are coming." _

"_What? Who-"_

_ But Jocelyn had pulled out one of the pencils, and her hair tumbled down. The sky lit up each initial strand, thickening her hair and suddenly red, gold, blonde, brown, and black appeared. Clary blinked hard; she could have sworn she saw something behind her mother, something-_

_ Jocelyn was holding her wrist steady and she pressed the pencil to Clary's arm. She was drawing something, and Clary felt a tiny stab of contentment behind a larger swell of homesickness that competed with a yearning that Clary knew could drive her mad-_

_ Clary looked at the burning on her arm, and feelings too strange flitted past, too fast to get a hold of and examine. She looked up. Her mother was gone, and she cried out, feeling the loss all over again, and she was cut off from everything she had a right to-_

_ The ground began to shake. Clary looked wildly around; the landscape changed drastically. The water was bubbling over, steam rising, and the water itself writhed as if something was waking up. Cracks were appearing in the ground, and wind began to blow, sucking air downwards. Clary screamed, trying to avoid falling into the abyss that appeared. The sky blazed, and she looked up. Streaks of heated lightening were falling through the sky, and Clary could have sworn she heard the clanging of swords._

_ Gravity yanked itself out from under her, and she fell. The chasm yawned beneath her and she screamed as she saw the sky unhinged itself from its moorings and begin to fall with her. The wind tore away her screams, but it couldn't tear away the awful ringing, as if something-or someone was calling for her and she blindly reached for the voice-_

"Clary!"

She gasped, as through her lungs were still on fire. Clary saw her hand was still outstretched, groping blindly for what wasn't there anymore. The sound, the nearly familiar-

"That ringing! I-its-"

"The doorbell." came the dry reply.

Clary turned. It was Jace staring up at her, regarding her with gold eyes. She couldn't tell if he was looking at her in sadness or confusion. Her dream was fading, and she nearly cried out again. Instead, she sat up, and avoid Jace's stare; she was feeling heated again, and it competed with the roiling emotions that the dream stirred up. She felt too full, and she might burst with despair.

"Of course it's the doorbell, what else would it be? That's what woke me up…"

Jace gave her another long look, and she wanted to snap at him to cut it out. Instead she made for the door, and he quickly overtook her.

"It's my house, I'll answer my door."

Jace sounded too moody to be joking, but he still smiled. The ringing became more frantic, and the two hurried down. Jace hurried down the pew's alleyway. The brightly lit candelabras burned at Clary's eyes and she watched Jace's back briefly flex as he pushed opened the doors.

Clary stared. She ignored the twilight sky, the candles behind her, and the smell of incense. She completely ignored Jace. What she was looking at was too impossible to be happening. Awful sweaty, bloody, and torn-things. She felt her vision blur and tunnel. She gasped for air; her lungs were on fire, and there could be no comfort gained, even from her burned arm. Faces looked at her, but somehow looked monstrous; the one person she wanted to look at her was still and limp. She felt sick; her stomach full of horrible wiggling things, but when she opened her mouth, all that came out was a scream.

"Simon!"

TMISPN

**TBC…**


	4. A lengthy explanation

**Disclaimer: Nope, anything recognizable is something that I don't own. **

**Warnings: Language for this one. Mild crack-don't want to spoil anything by telling you why.**

**Word count: 38,948**

**Chapter 4: A lengthy explanation.**

The crowd was screaming, their voices rose into one giant frothing roar. It had to be forced into the background to be able to concentrate. Spectators didn't bother to listen to the commentators that babbled to each other, clutching thick microphones. The only thing they cared about was the intense action happening below.

The two opponents faced each other on opposite sides, looking harassed and grim. They stared only at each other. Tension was thick and noticeable. The commentators picked up on that and began another round of talk.

"Well, folks it's getting right down to the wire!" the first one cried.

"I agree!" said the second. "With that last move, Sam Winchester has been put on the ropes."

"He's been playing well, but now the tables have been turned!" the first replied.

Dean swiveled to face the commentators' box.

"Oh shut up!"

He turned back at the large field in between him and Sam. He rolled his eyes and made a face.

"Feel like giving up yet?!" he shouted at Sam.

Sam looked back at him, and took one long look at the field. Its shortened grass was bare in patches, with huge ruts and ditches made from heavy impact. He could see the panting of exertion clearly from where he stood. Sam drew another one and he looked down at it. The small red and white ball was heavy as a stone. He looked back up, staring at Dean.

"Not even close." he threw the ball. "I choose you, Espeon!"

[PAUSE]

"Simon!"

Clary screamed. She could see Jo grimace at the sound but she didn't care. Jo was holding onto Simon, standing warily away from the vampire Raphael. She ran to them, ignoring Jace's shouts. Clary raced to Jo's side; the woman was struggling to hold Simon, who was slumped motionless and was half on the ground, half in Jo's arms. Both were bleeding, although Simon more so.

Clary felt the weakening in her legs, as she sunk down onto the ground. The two girls laid Simon gently on the ground; he barely stirred. His eyes were closed, pinched tight and his face was taunt and pale. Clary could see puckered, swelling holes on his body-his neck. She could see past the irritated, damaged flesh and could see the tiny black pinpricks, watched oozing…stuff. Her insides curled at the thought of blood being anywhere but inside Simon.

She gagged, her throat making protest at the noise. She could hear Jo saying something, and blearily acknowledged that the other woman had pulled a knife. Jo had moved in front of her, but she could still see that Jo's teeth were bared at the Vampire. She almost looked like one herself. She was speaking, but the words were blurred. Jace was replying angrily, but Clary couldn't be sure at who. She glanced back at Simon, feeling another pain filled cry swirling in her throat. Her chest ached, longing to howl out its release.

'_Oh, Simon I'm so sorry-'_

"How can that be?!"

Clary wanted to ask that too, but Jo had beaten her to it. Clary pressed her forehead to Simon's. She wished he would open his eyes one last time; to say something, even if it was the most inane thing she ever heard-

"Why did you kill him?"

Clary didn't know who asked it, or if she did herself, but it was now in the open. She clutched Simon tighter, and she thought she felt a twitch.

"He is not-"

Raphael was interrupted by the sound of a moan. Clary glanced down, and nearly screamed again. Simon had twitched, and he was alive. She shook him gently. If she could just get him to open his eyes, then everything would be okay and she would never leave him again-

"But he will." Raphael spoke.

"No he won't." Jo intoned; her blade glinted in the candle light.

Raphael looked wary, but made no movement. He looked oddly pale for a vampire, and Clary didn't know why her mind picked out that detail. Raphael seemed tired, and his gracefulness was not present. Her eyes picked out Jo, who was still rigid and fierce.

"Wait-" Clary blinked hard.

She wanted her clarity back, if only to save Simon. She owned him that and more.

"Your friends-the guys. Can you get them here?" Clary asked Jo. "Can they help Simon?"

"Clary." Jace began.

"A phone. I need a phone." Clary searched wildly for hers before remembering that it was in Jace's room.

"Clary-" Jace tried again.

"A phone!" she shrieked.

Jace looked agonized, his face looking bleached of color and he tried to reach for her, but Clary pulled back from him. She ignored the spasm of hurt on his face. Simon needed her help, not Jace. Clary nearly snarled when Jace got too close and she turned to Jo.

"I-think it's-" Jo looked suddenly lost, her free hand groping her pockets.

Clary's heart sank. She bit back sobs, feeling her teeth cutting into her lips. She clutched onto Simon, and she heard Jace speak again, slowly with his hands in the air, like he was surrendering.

"Ok, I'll get your phone, just-stay-" he regarded Jo and Raphael. "Don't move. Do not do anything."

Clary didn't concentrate on anything else. She dimly heard Jace retreating back, to get the phone. No one said anything, and Clary willed her spirit to Simon, trying to get him to open his eyes. She was aware that Jo was still next to her, and beneath it all a small part of her was grateful for the protection. Clary dimly wanted to ask what happened, how had this happened, and why wasn't she doing the protecting. Simon was her-

"Here"

Clary started violently, and this time she did snarl at Jace. He dropped the phone, nearly springing away from Clary. She picked up the phone, but her hands were shaking too badly to dial. Besides, she didn't even know their number. Wordlessly she handed it over to Jo. Not once taking her eyes off Raphael, she began to dial and was quickly speaking. Clary didn't bother to listen as she stared hard at Raphael.

"Explain this vampire." Jace demanded.

Clary could see he brought a seraph blade with him. She had no idea how it got there, and she was aware that Jo had probably never seen one before, but she had shut the phone already.

"They'll be here soon."

Clary wanted to shout that soon wasn't good enough, that Simon needed help _now_, but strangely it was Raphael who beat her to the punch.

"He will be dead in moments." his voice was calm despite everything.

There was a screech of brakes and sudden running. Dean, Sam, and Cas had arrived. Clary stared in surprise; they had come sooner than expected and were armed. Jo didn't look surprised, but Raphael raised an eyebrow. They pointed their guns at Raphael.

"No he won't" Jo replied.

"Better get goin' now." Dean growled, and his smile was frightening.

Raphael raised his hands. "I was merely giving him back to the Shadowhunters. I knew that he was an acquaintance of theirs, and by sparing him, I could spare myself." he looked warily at the people who had encircled him. "Clearly I was mistaken."

"Wait-" Clary looked up. "How -"

"The only way to save your friend is to let him become one of us-a vampire."

The response was immediate. Clary pressed herself against Simon, and felt her lips pull back. She longed for a weapon.

"What about Cas?" Jo or Jace asked. "Can he fix Simon?"

"I cannot. I am no longer able to." he sounded regretful.

Clary nearly screamed again. She looked down at Simon again. He looked strangely youthful, and she shook herself; of course he looked youthful. He was. Is. She gritted her teeth. She drew a shaky breath.

"Clary, I'm so sorry." Jace looked down at her.

Clary gasped so sharply, it a was a near scream; Jace was already saying to let go. Goodbye. Like it was no big deal that she would never see Simon smile, or laugh, play in his band, and buy his favorite videogames. He would never get to come over to Luke's, or see a movie with her-

So many things that would never get to happen again. Clary couldn't help howling, but she cut herself off. Her noises were reverberating off the walls, grotesque sounds being bounced back to her. Something deep inside her snapped, recoiling at the thought of a Simon-less world. This was something she could not, would not allow.

"No." she said it quietly. She didn't know how she managed that. She looked up at Raphael. "Ok do it."

Raphael looked warily as the others looked to and from each other. He looked at Clary, and she stared boldly back at him. He did this to Simon; he was going to fix it. Maybe that was why he nodded.

"All right."

"No Clary." Jace bent down to her. "I know that he is important to you, but this-this isn't-it won't bring him back." he struggled for words. "Sometimes-think about what-"

Clary looked up at him in renewed horror; what if she did let Simon become a vampire, would he be the next thing Jace would hunt? This was already too hard. Clary pulled Simon away from Jace, her mind swirling too fast to grasp anything. Suddenly walls closed in, with sharp mouths, ready to devour her and Simon. Clary felt all reason slip through her fingers, and she covered her body over Simon's and something deep and frightening and roaring overtook her.

"Leave us alone!" she shrieked, feeling her chest rattle. "I won't let you!"

Jace leapt back from her again, looking horrorstruck and hurt. "Clary, do you really think I would-" he seemed unable to continue.

Clary looked wildly around, not caring who heard her. "I don't care what he comes back as, as long as he comes back."

She felt tears on her face, and they were splashing onto Simon's, and she felt a new hardened resolve. He would open his eyes.

"No one touches Simon-or Raphael-" Clary choked. "He's gonna-"

"Ok, ok."

Jace was looking directly at her, palms up. He had put away his seraph blade and was looking right at her. He was moving slowly, speaking slowly. Clary felt momentary confusion as to why. Jace looked scared. She opened her mouth, frightened what might come out, but something deep inside told her to keep her hackles up. Clary felt strangely pleased that no one was able to get near Simon.

"You will have to let go of Simon." Raphael said.

Clary whipped her head in his direction, letting her eyes narrow; he appeared unruffled.

"There are certain requirements, and they will not be met here." he explained. "He needs to be taken to a cemetery."

The two hunter men look ready to voice something, but Jo silenced them with a look, and gave them some kind of meaningful conversation with a facial expression. Clary didn't feel like examining that at the moment.

"Fine. It has to be a Jewish one though." she said. "He'd like that."

Raphael gave a nod. "Secondly, he needs blood."

"Not from a person." Clary quickly replied. "Just find something else."

At that Raphael appeared chagrinned, but merely nodded. Jace gestured for the phone, and Jo tossed it to him. He dialed quickly, but Clary stopped listening and she turned away when he tried to catch her eye. Dean moved towards Clary, his hands still up.

"We've got towels in the car."

Clary stared at him.

"We're driving. It'll be a lot easier than carrying him and no one will ask anything."

Clary nodded.

"Ok." Dean turned to Sam and Cas. "It's cool."

Dean bent down to Clary's level, and put a hand on Simon's arm. He gave her a brief smile, and Clary had to struggle with herself to relax her grip on Simon. She almost cried out when Dean scooped Simon up. He did it so easily, and Clary wondered briefly how many times he had done this before. Simon didn't even cry out when Dean stood up, and Dean adjusted Simon in his arms, wincing a little. Clary stood up too, standing close. He nodded.

"We gotta hurry."

Clary nodded shakily. The two matched pace as they strode to the car. Raphael watched them all with an inscrutable expression. Clary rattled off the name and address of the cemetery that she knew Simon and his mom had been to before.

She helped Dean adjust Simon into the backseat, and she scrambled in next to Simon, and Jo on the other side of him. Dean exchanged a surprised look with her, but said nothing. Sam clambered into the passenger's seat.

Dean pointed a finger at Raphael. "I ain't takin' you. You meet us there."

Raphael shrugged. "Very well. Just hurry."

Dean glared at him but said nothing. Cas stood next to Jace, and both seemed intent on keeping an eye on Raphael. Dean slammed the door and started the ignition.

How do I get there?"

Clary dully recited the directions, and they sped off. She looked down at Simon, cradling his head in her lap, and she stroked his hair. She marveled at its softness. She looked over to see Jo pressing a towel over one of the bites.

"Can I have one?" she asked quietly.

Jo handed her one. "Just apply pressure on whichever one you think needs it."

The streetlamps illuminated the backseat in patches. It made Simon's skin look garish, while hers looked like peaches. She shuddered.

"What happened?"

Surprisingly, it was Dean who asked that. Clary looked at Jo out of the corner of her eye, and a streetlamp suddenly lit Jo up like a spotlight. Somehow she had aged. Jo took a breath.

"We were walking. We were going into a skuzzy neighborhood, but that didn't freak him out until we stopped in front of a hotel."

"The Dumort?" asked Clary, feeling her body become drenched in ice water sweat.

"Yes." Jo continued. "He freaked and I lost him. When I found him, he was going inside." Clary gasped. "I think he thought he was going to turn into one; he told me what happened the last time he went in."

"The last time?" Sam sounded appalled.

"What were you thinking?" Dean asked angrily.

Jo snapped back. "By the time I figured out what was happening, we had to fight our way out!"

"Well you should have called us-instead of going into a full nest all by yourself! That is what happened right?!"

"Yes! I'm sorry, but they weren't going to call a time out so I could call for backup!" Jo turned to Clary. "I'm so sorry. I should have done a better job."

"No its ok." Clary shuddered again. "It sounded crazy in there-I just wish. I'm sorry, because I should have been protecting him better. He shouldn't have needed it in the first place, he wouldn't have gone to that place if I was paying better attention." she got a better look at Jo. "You got hurt too, and I'm sorry. You were put in danger too; I know you're a hunter and all, but…"

"No, it's ok."

Clary was starting to recognize the feeling of helplessness, and she hated its familiarity. How in the world was it bearable? She was simply unable to do anything but watch as those she cared about kept getting hurt.

They pulled into the cemetery, gravel crunching and spitting as they made their way down the one lane road. Their headlights were the only ones visible. A figure was illuminated by them, and Clary could see that it was Raphael. Sam and Dean got out first, and Clary and Jo lifted Simon carefully. Clary scooted backwards out of her seat as Jo pushed Simon's feet forwards.

Clary could see Sam and Dean both look at the vampire with disgust. Raphael didn't appear to notice. He gestured for them to follow him.

"We have already picked out a spot for him."

SPNTMI

When they got there, Clary could see Jace, Cas, Magnus, and the Lightwood siblings were already there. Alec and Jace were both shoveling into the ground, their clothes already stained with dirt and sweat. Isabelle was gritting her teeth and Clary could tell even from her distance, that she was trying not to cry. Magnus stood beside her, his eyes watching Alec. Cas was scanning for them, and Clary saw that he never took his gaze off their own for a moment. His arms were full of what looked like bags of blood. Clary felt sick.

Jace nodded in greeting. "We're almost done."

Alec just panted with exertion as he tossed another shovel full of dirt onto the ground. Clary motioned to set Simon down, and she glanced around for another shovel.

"Any problems?" someone asked, probably just to say something.

Isabelle looked at Raphael through narrowed, tear glazed eyes. "The Clave will hear about this."

Raphael looked angered. "It is I who should be saying that to you. The Law states that anyone who trespasses on our territory is ours to do what we will with-"

At this, the hunters tensed, ready to draw their weapons. Jace leaned on his shovel, nothing moving except his eyes. Alec continued to shovel, but Isabelle had raised her wrist. Raphael looked furious now, but he continued speaking as if he wasn't surrounded by angry people.

Raphael gestured to Jo. "She trespassed, and nearly killed us all!"

"Not so fun when dinner fights back huh?" she taunted.

Dean pulled her sharply by the arm, but Clary could have sworn she saw an almost parental spark of pride in his eyes. Clary was suddenly reminded of Luke, and felt a fierce ache for him to be near.

"She is not a part of The Clave, she must be punished accordingly. After all, the Law is there for our safety as well-"

"Watch it." growled Isabelle. "The only thing protecting your life at this moment _is_ the Law."

Raphael's eyes flashed. "I have a guarantee from your people. After all, it is the only way we can all live in harmony, correct?" he didn't wait for a response. "However, I have no such treaties with mundanes, especially ones who know of the Shadow World. That is something which sparks my curiosity."

The hole was deep enough and Alec gestured for Clary to bring Simon down into it. Clary and Jo hoisted Simon up, and moved him. Jace stopped leaning on his shovel and reached for Simon from inside the hole. Clary was reluctant to give him over to anyone else, but she hesitated for only a moment. She watched carefully to see Jace be gentle with him, and Jo had to tug her gently back as Jace climbed out of the hole. She turned away from their concerned eyes.

Alec jumped out of the hole, and he moved away from Magnus when the warlock tried to put his arms around him. Isabelle gave a quick sad glance in their direction, but made for Clary.

"Are you sure that you want to do this? That Simon would want this for himself, because Clary, the life of a vampire is-"

"Yes!" shouted Clary. "I know he isn't a _precious _Shadowhunter, but I'll protect him! I won't let him become a monster, he's still Simon. No matter what."

She could see others looking at her in surprise, and Dean picked up Jace's discarded shovel and began to fill the hole. With a shrug, Sam joined him. They exchanged another look as they piled the dirt on. They looked as confused as she felt.

"What's all this for?" she asked Raphael.

"For him to be properly risen as a vampire, he needs to be buried first."

Clary felt her dread build. "Then?"

"He must dig himself out."

"How? He was barely conscious?!" put in Jo.

"We shall see." Raphael replied.

When the ground was covered, Sam and Dean stepped back. They turned to Jo and began speaking.

"Ok, what happened?" Dean asked her.

Clary listened as Jo quietly gave a more specific retelling of what happened inside the Dumort. She flinched at the part where the two were trapped in the stairway. Clary wondered if anyone else was listening, or if Jo was too quiet. Clary honestly didn't care, but she was confused why they were being so quiet. Jo had finished with the words:

"If it had been only a few hours later, then that sunlight trick wouldn't have worked."

"What I want to know is why it even worked at all. Sunlight isn't supposed to hurt _that_ much." Dean said.

"Holy water worked on them too." Jo replied.

"Wait-that isn't-" Sam cut himself off.

Clary was confused. She stared ahead, but was straining to hear them.

'_They are hunters, so why would this confuse them? Even I know this stuff, or well some of it-'_

"I know. Lore says that is all a bunch of crap, so why would it suddenly work?" Jo asked. "Or about this burial stuff? I have seen vampires turn."

"Yeah." Dean replied. "Hell, I remember when Gordon turned-it only took a few hours."

Clary felt another chill go through her.

'_Gordon? Turning? Well, just what are they talking about, that doesn't sound like vampires to me. Either they really are crazy, or they know something we-'_

"Working theory," Sam spoke up. "Either these aren't vampires at all, or they are entirely new vampires."

"Ones' that we haven't even seen before?" Dean countered. "Why?"

"The apocalypse maybe? Maybe it's affecting the monsters…" Sam shrugged.

They continued to talk amongst themselves, but Clary had heard enough. She shivered, and a part of her did want to ask just what the hell they were talking about, but another part of her cautioned against it. They were speaking to themselves and it was obvious that it was for them only. Clary avoided looking directly at them or Jace for that matter.

A sudden scraping made everyone tense. Only Raphael was calm and he stood closest to the makeshift grave. The sound was getting louder, until it became clear that it was nails pulling at dirt. Simon. Clary felt herself make some kind of sound and she hurried forward to help him get out. Raphael held her back with a one slender arm.

"This is something he must do by himself."

Clary tried to push past Raphael, but he was a statute fixed firmly in place. The dirt on the topmost layer was shivering, and began to tumble down the pile. Clary peered anxiously over Raphael's shoulder, shivering at his proximity. She jumped when she felt someone behind her. It was Jace.

"Are you sure that you want to watch this?" his voice full of caution. "Simon…won't be himself for a while."

"He'll be fine." Clary replied. "We'll be fine." she added, placing emphasis on 'we'll'.

Clary turned to look at all those behind her. Faces full of sadness for her and Simon, and grim with the dark, some were looking inscrutable. Cas looking mournful, but with a touch of something else, both Sam and Dean looked as though they understood, and Jo looking pained. Isabelle was grasping Alec's hand tightly. Magnus looking on seemingly detached. Jace was staring straight at her. She felt her insides quiver, but she looked past him. These people were in pain, had known pain, but somehow dealt with it. Envy briefly flared inside her; how did they handle it all? She tried to meet all their gazes. This was important, and she wanted to be strong. To prove that she could be too and stand next to them.

"Yes." she felt her teeth clench. "I want to watch."

She turned back, unable to continue looking at them all. Fingers were immerging, cracked with dirt and crusted with dried blood. They wiggled in the air, like a horrific parody of a greeting. Slender wrists came next, and they were so dirty, it was hard to see any of the skin they covered. They struggled upwards, and Clary was reminded of a flower stalk pushing up from a crack in a sidewalk. Arms burst out, flailing wildly.

It was like a bad monster movie, black and white creatures that attacked bad acting, screaming women. Clary shuddered, rubbing her arms frantically; this was not television, and the monster was Simon. There was no one to walk out of the theater when it finished, no one to laugh with afterwards.

The upturned earth was heaving, as though it were alive and taking huge gulps of air. Strange snarling and snuffling was muffled beneath it, and then it picked up pace and began to get more frantic. It was starting to cry out, a helpless sound. Clary was oddly reminded of babies, and hearing the sound with what she was seeing was beginning to terrify her.

Raphael suddenly moved away from Clary, and moved to Cas. The latter tensed when the former came forward. Cas looked ready to bare his teeth at Raphael, but the vampire didn't remark on it. He merely opened his hands.

"The blood."

Cas seemed to ripple with tension, and he wordlessly handed the bags over to Raphael. Clary could have sworn his arms were shaking. Cas didn't unwind from his stiffened pose until Raphael was a good distance away. He ignored the odd looks he was getting from the three hunters.

Clary watched Simon struggle to free himself from his grave, stumbling out of it. He gave a growling whine as he fell back into the hole, and Clary longed to reach in and pull him out. She edged closer to the hole, watching Simon wriggle and stumble inside. He seemed unable to stand properly. Maybe they were like newborn horses; they struggled to stand for the first time in their lives. Clary poked her head farther into the hole. She had seen, out of the corner of her eye, Raphael tear one of the blood packets open.

At the sound, Simon lifted his head up. His eyes met Clary's. They were round, and without his glasses, they looked big and vulnerable. They were the same dark color as always, but now it was more apparent that they had color. They were familiar, and Clary nearly cried with relief; Simon was alive, and could look at her again. But there was something…off about them. He never gave her such a look. Childlike curiosity, but something hungry and feral…

"Simon?"

He perked up at his name, and his fingers flexed. His look was so intense, but very helpless. He opened his mouth wide, and gave another screeching, plaintive cry. Clary could see his new teeth gleaming white. He bared them and growled in a pained frustration.

"He is hungry."

Raphael's voice made her jump, and she could see Simon watching her every move. Clary felt a thrill of fear jolt her system, before she was overcome with guilt. She reached for the open packet, and saw that Raphael was too surprised to react, and she grabbed it from him, ignoring his protests. She just wished everyone would shut up already.

She turned back to Simon. His cries had been getting progressively louder, and now they had become unbearable. He was scrambling and screeching; she wondered if he could smell the blood, and not being able to find it was what was causing his wild movements.

"Simon." she called softly.

He looked up, fast enough that his neck must have cricked in complaint. He stared back at her, and she was unnerved by what she saw. She lifted up the packet of blood, and watched him follow it with his eyes. She shook it once. The liquid sloshed and Clary felt the bile rise in her stomach, but Simon hopped a little. Clary had another twisted thought: Simon was like a puppy waiting to be fed. She couldn't help the hysterical giggling as she waved the bag at him.

"Here. Come here…good Simon." her crooning just made her giggle harder.

Simon sprang out of the hole and scrabbled onto the dirt piled next to it. Clary had to stop a scream from coming out of her mouth; she hadn't anticipated his speed, or sudden focus. He leapt on top of her, and she thrust the blood packet at him. He did not grab it from her with his hands, but rather his mouth. She clamped her mouth shut, her scream locked tight inside. Simon was scraping at the bag with his teeth.

"No no, use your hands." she tried to pry it away from him. "Like this, see."

Simon made another strange noise and Clary nearly wailed. Her fingers fumbled with the bag, and Simon struggled to get it back. She almost screamed at him, but she managed to pull the bag open, and blood sloshed onto her shaking hands and wrists. Clary choked her throat convulsing as Simon leapt at it. His didn't use his hands to steady it, but tried to dive his whole head into the small bag. Clary tried not to push him away as she felt his teeth brush against her skin when he struggled to break open the bag. She tried as best she could, to tip the liquid into his open cavernous mouth. He quickly drained it all and screamed for more.

"Hang on."

She flinched when she felt his tongue rasp over her bloodied hands and wrists. Any other time and she would have laughed, but now she had to prevent her entire body from leaping away from him. He whined piteously as she hurriedly tried to grab another blood bag. She felt a sharp stab of pain in her arm. Simon had stopped snuffling about her, and bit her instead.

Clary shrieked, and suddenly she was in the air. She landed with a thump at the feet of the others. She felt their hands trying to assess damage, but she ignored them, instead looking over at where she used to be. Raphael had tossed her out of the way and was feeding Simon himself. He was actually crooning to Simon, and it could have been mocking, but there was something about his expression that she found alarming.

"Not so fast, drink up little fledgling."

"Fledgling?"

Surprisingly, it was Cas who asked that and it was spoken in a disgusted tone. As if he found the term itself particularly offensive.

"Yes." answered Raphael. "That is what we call those who have just been reborn."

It was a poor choice of words. Clary felt the ripple of disgust through the group. She didn't blame them. Fledglings are supposed to be cute, fluffy baby birds. Not young vampires writhing in the dirt, begging for blood. She felt her stomach clench and she willed herself not to throw up. Clary felt her body convulse and flame with shame, and she couldn't hold back her sob.

Clary made no move to get up; the ground was cool beneath her heated body. She wanted to flinch away from everyone, make them disappear. She didn't want their comfort or deserve it. The breeze suddenly blew through making her shiver, and it almost felt good, and she was reminded of the fact that this was a cemetery and a perfect place to curl up. Someone pressed a hand on her back; she didn't know who, or care. She just pressed her face into dirt and wished the nightmare would end.

SPNTMI

As Clary walked the halls of the sterilized linoleum, she felt her dread grow. She felt like she was about to walk into a confessional. Not that she had ever been in one, but she'd seen enough TV, and read enough books to get the gist. She shook her head to clear it; she was just visiting her mother, nothing more. Ever since the fight at Renwick's, her mother Jocelyn had been here. It was a pretty decent hospital, with a competent staff, and the only downside was that they had horrible coffee.

She made her way past the front desk, and the café. Clary knew the route to her mother's room by heart. It was a grey room, and when she entered, she'd shut the door behind her. It was still the same, with its fading colors, and beeping machines. The only thing that had any vibrancy was her mother's red hair, but even that seemed to be fading. Her mother never opened her eyes when Clary came to see her. She looked so calm, and it was unlike her. Not that Jocelyn was never a calm person, but she always had an energy about her, something that made her seem alive and _real._

Now she was quiet and still, looked pale, somehow less than what she was and Clary wondered if it was because of the spell she was under, or it was just her imagination. She grabbed one of the chairs, letting its legs scrape on the linoleum tiles. It didn't do anything except hurt Clary's ears, and she sat down.

Nervous, Clary took a shaky breath. This felt important, and she had to get it right. She set her fingers next to her mother's, letting their fingertips nervously brush together. Clary clasped her hands around her mother's, and she shivered; Jocelyn's hand was cold, despite having a steady pulse beneath her skin. Clary rubbed it briefly to try and warm it up, and she began.

"Hey it's me, but maybe you knew that. I don't know. They say you can hear things, and that it helps. I wish you could talk back, and then this wouldn't feel so stupid. I know Luke talks to you, and it seems to help him. I wonder what it is he talks to you about, or what. I dunno what there is to say. I guess now would be a good time to tell you…"

Clary took a breath.

"I met someone. Or, well, lots of someone's. Shadowhunters. I know. I know all about what you had been trying to hide from me. I met Magnus Bane; he's a surprise isn't he? I wonder how it is you met him, or just how you knew everyone. Like Valentine; how in the world you ended up marrying him. What was your life like? Not just with him, but the whole time, all those years when I wasn't even born. There is so much you haven't told me, didn't share with me. Those someone's? Well they did. Alec, Isabelle, and Jace. If it wasn't for them I wouldn't even be alive. They helped me so much."

Clary squeezed Jocelyn's hand, and continued.

"And Simon too. He never left my side, even when he should have. I almost left him behind, but he still got caught up in this mess. He's…he's not the same anymore. He got turned into a vampire. It was the only way to save his life. It was so close, if Jo hadn't been there-"

Clary laughed nervously. She could no longer tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing that her mother couldn't reply.

"She is a hunter, a mundane that knows about the Shadow World. She has two friends, or well partners, I think. A pair of brothers named Sam and Dean. They're a little bit older than us, but good guys. I don't know how they know all this stuff, but apparently there _are _mundanes-or hunters, really who know what Shadowhunters know-for the most part-and fight them. Did you ever know this? I wonder if you would have been as surprised as the others."

Clary gritted her teeth.

"Anyway, if it weren't for Jo, Simon would have died. I hope he can ever forgive me for what I've done to him. I'm a bad friend, and even worse sister. I have family. Valentine is the man who fathered me, and raised Jace-my brother. Why didn't you tell me about them?!"

She struggled to get her voice under control.

"I wish I knew-met them in a totally different way, and then maybe-anyway. I guess it doesn't matter. They saved me. If it wasn't for them, I'd be dead. Still could be. Oh mom! Valentine is still after us, and there isn't much we can do. He is planning something horrible, and he has the Mortal Instruments! He has already done so many bad things, and I don't know what I can do-"

Clary bowed her head, letting their hands touch her forehead. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"The only thing I can do is find a way to wake you up. So _please-_just hold on for a bit longer."

A sudden knocking made Clary jump as if her chair had been electrocuted. She turned to see Luke, one hand carrying two cups of coffee that he had stacked together and with the other, he was opening the door.

She wanted to be mad at him for interrupting, but she didn't know what else there was to be said. Clary wondered how long he had been there and whether he had been waiting for her to finish. She felt a sudden rush of affection for him. Luke was dependable, and he'd always stay the same. He was wearing his usual outfit. The worn jeans and flannel, now with a heavier jacket over them. His huge workman boots clomped over the tiles. He handed her one of the cups before pulling up a chair himself. Luke ran a hand through his graying hair.

"When did you get here?" Clary asked him.

"Not long."

They didn't say much, but Clary didn't care. They didn't have to. It was only until much later that Luke got up, kissing her on the top of her head.

"It's going to be alright."

Clary stood up to follow him, and squeezed her mother's hand.

"See you later."

SPNTMI

Jo pulled change out of her pocket and fed the machine. She quickly dialed, and didn't have to wait long to hear a voice on the other end.

"_Hello?"_

"Hey mom."

"_Joanna Beth Harvelle, we agreed that you'd call in sooner than this-"_

"I know, but I lost my phone on a job."

"_A job? I thought you were already on one with the boys-"_

"I am, but I got sidetracked. Look, I'm on a payphone, so I can only give you a brief rundown till I geta new phone."

"_I'm listening." _

"We got the colt. We might have a lead on the devil, but there is nothing definite. We met some people, and this'll be hard to believe-but they call themselves Shadowhunters, and they aren't hunters but something different."

"_You're gonna have to explain this one to me."_

"Yeah. Haven't ever come across em' before, and they were surprised to learn about hunters, which sounds like even though we pretty much do the same thing, they don't run in the same circles as we do."

"_What does this have to do with the colt or the devil?"_

"We don't know yet, but Cas thinks something's up. Mom, even he's confused."

"_I can be there in about a day-"_

"Oh, Mom don't. It's okay, even with the vampires-"

"…_Vampires? Jo-"_

"Mom, it's okay, Dean already reamed my ass about that. I'm sure he can tell you all about it-"

"_Oh he will."_

"_Mom_. Seriously, it'll be okay. I'll tell you when we've got something to go on."

"_You better. I'll see you when you do, believe me."_

"I know. I'll see you later."

SPNTMI

It wasn't long, almost a day afterwards that a call for the Institute came in around the same time that the police scanner the Winchesters owned had started with an odd message. It was shockingly similar. Mundane police were baffled, and it was suspicious enough that it registered to the Lightwoods' at the same time. The Pandemonium Club was having some kind of trouble; no one was sure what was going on.

"Oh-my God!" the voice on the radio crackled to life, static hissing.

"What is it? What seems to be the problem?" the calmer dispatcher asked.

"I-I'm not even sure but, its just-just bring all the squad cars!"

"Alright. Just sit tight."

It wasn't long after that one of the bouncers, who happened to be a Downworlder, had called the Institute, with a similar attitude. His baffled replies to Mayrse Lightwoods' queries put her on edge.

"Can you at least describe what is happening?"

"…I'm not sure. I thought it was just a bunch of kids doing something crazy, but I've been hearing rumors about what's been happening-"

"Alright alright. Someone will be there shortly. Just keep the mundanes occupied."

"Er…yes."

Which is how it came to be that Sam, Dean, Cas, Alec, and Isabelle hurried as fast as they could to one of the most popular Downworlder haunts. The Impala parked a ways away, and they strode quickly to the figures that were becoming familiar. The Lightwoods didn't look as surprised to see the Winchesters and Castiel this time around.

"You got here fast." Isabelle remarked.

"Police scanner." Dean replied.

"So this must be more serious than we thought." Alec mused.

"What do they know about this place?" asked Sam.

"They think it's just a teen club, but really it's a place where Downworlders mingle with mundanes, some of whom get a little too close to the Shadow World for their own good." Alec explained.

"Think that's what happened?" Dean asked.

"Guess we'll find out." Isabelle remarked. A crowd was forming, but there didn't seem to be any police officers. It just seemed like any other night with rowdy, confused teenagers. Isabelle grabbed at their sleeves and headed down to a side entrance. A large burly man was leaning against a wall-he looked annoyed, but there was something about his posture that said he was on edge.

"I'm not sure if this is just some sick joke or what but there are those things inside." he spoke when they approached.

"What things?" Alec asked.

The bouncer grimaced. "Mannequins, I think. They looked so real…just please tell me they're fake. I don't need this."

"Ok, we'll see what's what."

With Isabelle leading the way, they managed to push past the crowd. Dean had to squeeze past a group of boys wearing what looked like cellophane dresses and a girl with blue hair gave Alec a flirty smile. Inside the club was just as crowded, and the music and lights still pulsed. Dancers didn't seem to mind the oddly placed bodies. They were various creatures. Wolf-men, and Bela Lugosi-esque vampires, mummies and even faeries. Each one was obviously dead, their bodies splayed in odd positions, some in obvious comedic poses.

The only thing that really seemed disturbing was just how realistic the bodies looked, and some did actually look as though they had encountered something horrible before they died. Some people did look alarmed, and few screams showed their fear. One girl with purple skin was staring at a dead faerie body with a look of frightened disgust. A tall, biker looking boy was twirling the Bela Lugosi vampire body in time to the beat. He growled and playfully gnawed on the neck. The dark skinned girl next to him hit him on the arm.

"Bat, that's nasty. Seriously, what's wrong with you?"

Dean turned to look at the rest of their group. He could see the annoyance on .Alec's face, and he looked more affronted that his sister. He looked ready to give a sharp comment when Isabelle clinically inspected a body that had antlers growing out of its head. She poked it with one finger, and jumped when blue sparks fizzed out. She turned to look back at them.

"Well I seriously doubt Valentine is behind this."

Alec fixed her with an acerbic look. "Obviously. I'll go tell them there's nothing to worry about."

"No need, I'll do it."

Isabelle turned and began to take off, but Alec grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"This will take forever to clean up."

Isabelle shrugged. "Your fault for saying we should check this out."

"Well, I am the oldest. This will be a learning experience for you."

Isabelle snorted. "What do you call this?"

"Character building."

"I'll flip you for it." Isabelle was already reaching for a coin. "Heads or tails?"

Dean and Sam watched with amusement as Alec called the coin as if shimmered in the air. Isabelle slapped it on her palm, and made a face.

"See, the oldest wins every time."

Isabelle glared at Alec as he walked away to find the bouncers. Sam gave her a sympathetic grimace.

"We'll give the place the once over, just in case." he said.

"Knock yourself out."

Sam and Dean began to spread out as Isabelle walked over to one of the pretend corpses and corralled Cas into holding a mummy body for her. Dancers swayed to the beat, and Dean looked up to see that the DJ hadn't even bothered to look at the scene below him, his eyes closed as he bobbed his head to the music. Dean shrugged, and scanned the crowd. He could spot Sam, who easily stuck out from the rest with his jacket that was the only plain color in the pack. His brother was scanning, and he quickly caught Dean's eye and pointed in the direction of a small corridor in the back.

Together they made their way through the small entryway. It was lighted normally, and the ground was dirty from litter and shoe prints. There was a small doorway, the plaque rusted over, but the letters were still visible.

Employees Only

Dean gave the door knob an experimental tug. It gave easily, and he peered in. The ground was strewn with cable wire and trash. Cans of spray paint littered the ground, used already and thrown directly below the hastily scrawled graffiti. The room was small and it looked as if it hadn't seen any employees in a long time. Nothing really stood out from the room, and he carefully avoided the wires on the ground.

"Dean."

Dean turned and saw his brother straighten back up; he was holding some trash in his hand, and he held it up for Dean to see. Candy wrappers.

"So unless Valentine has a sweet tooth-" Dean started.

"We're dealing with the Trickster." Sam finished.

Dean grimaced. "How much you wanna bet it's _the _Trickster? I've been waiting a long time to get my hands on that son of 'a bitch."

Sam dropped the wrappers. "Hang on. What if we asked for his help?" he ignored. Dean's incredulous stare. "Come, he's one of the strongest creatures we've ever faced."

"Exactly why that's a bad idea." Dean rebuffed.

Sam seemed to consider this. "Ok, well lets' just ask anyway, and we'll kill him if we have to."

"I like that option. What's with you and monsters?" he shook his head.

Dean ignored Sam's dark look and followed his brother to the door. They walked back down the hall, and Dean vaguely noted that the music had changed. He frowned; they had stakes in the trunk, but he hadn't thought to-

A sudden roaring of an engine blazing past made Dean leapt back on instinct. The sound he heard wasn't music, but the cheering of a crowd. Stands jammed packed with people, their faces excited and some were jumping in their seats. Dean reached for his gun, but nothing was coming at him. He began to take in his surroundings.

It was a race track. Cars sped past, but something was wrong with them. They looked too…ridiculous. Everything looked strange; not the things themselves but their placement. Dean whirled; Sam should have said something by now-

"Sam?" he called. His brother was nowhere to be seen. "Sam?!" he shouted.

"Dean, over here!"

Dean turned to face the track. He could see the Impala; how he could have missed it beforehand was ridiculous, but maybe it wasn't there before. He couldn't see Sam in either the passenger or driver's seat, but he ran to his car all the same. A part of him must have thought Sam was inside because he climbed in and twisted around to see the backseat. No one was there.

"Dammit Sammy, where are you?" he muttered.

"Right here."

Dean shouted, jumping. He twisted back in his seat. There was no one there. Dean could still feel himself tense, but he tried not to show it.

"Ok, where is here?"

"I'm right-" there was a pause. "Ah crap."

Dean's mind took a step back and put the two together. He was in the Impala and Sam sounded as if he was right next to him, but it was like talking to the air-and getting a response. He looked to see if the car itself was any different. Not really, but his gaze wandered to the radio's AM/FM tuning frequency.

"The Trickster." Sam groaned.

The radio's needle jumped, and Dean started. It all clicked into place. Sam _was_ the Impala. He slapped the steering wheel.

"Son of a bitch!" he shouted.

"…Ow."

"Er…Sorry." Dean looked down at the radio. "Any theories?"

"NASCAR?"

Dean glanced around, seeing pit crews and uniformed men racing around. Cars were pulling up. They were beginning to surround the Impala, and if Sam was still a person, he might have backed away. The cars were not sleek or streamlined, nor did they have any brand names painted on their bodies. They were tiny and compact, and downright goofy.

One pulled up next to them, and its driver was a man…creature with brightly colored armor, and he gave Dean a wicked grin from his steering wheel. On the other side of them, a blond woman wearing a frilly pink dressed had pulled up next to them. She waved to the driver that had driven up beside her, and Dean could see it was a large green lizard.

"Really f'ed up NASCAR." Dean replied, staring. "Hang on, is this-"

"Boys!"

A voice shouted, and Dean narrowed his eyes after his momentary surprise. The Trickster was waving to them, and he was walking towards them. The other drivers waved to him and called out greetings, and he yelled cheerfully back to them.

"Princess Peach!" he whistled. "Lookin good!"

The blonde woman giggled and blushed. Dean just stared. The Trickster smirked at him, and Dean barely suppressed the urge to hit the gas and run him over. The other man was walking to them, and when he got close, he ran one hand over the Impala, and he cocked his head to get a good look at the rest of the car. Dean kept his eyes on the Trickster; he didn't want him touching the Impala like that, and felt possessiveness and he struggled to reach for his gun. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could have sworn he saw the radio needle bounce. The trickster smiled as if he knew what Dean was thinking. He whistled again.

"_Wow, Sam. Check out the rims on you." _

For some reason, if Sam could have blushed he would have. He was oddly mortified, and his reply was harsher than usual.

"Oh eat me."

The Trickster's eyes flashed with something, but before he could respond, Dean spoke.

"Change him back." Dean growled.

The trickster screwed up his face in mock thought. "Hmmm. No."

Dean actually growled in response. The trickster didn't seem bothered at all, and he leaned on the Impala, peering at Dean.

"What'll you do if I don't? Shove something pointy in my face?" he drawled.

"We could use your help." Sam spoke up. "Please."

The trickster didn't seem as surprised as Sam thought he would be, and Sam took the man's silence as a means to continue.

"Like it or not, you're one of the strongest things we've ever faced." he sounded as he was admitting to an embarrassing secret.

The trickster made a face as if he was just realizing something. "Oh, so I'm supposed to do something for you."

Sam sighed, the reply was sarcastic and a little bit of something he wasn't able to identify. Dean snapped at the trickster.

"Look, you probably already know that the world-"

"Is gonna go boom?" The trickster raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, which is totally your fault by the way."

Sam knew Dean was about to shout, so he quickly intervened.

"We know. Which is why we're trying to stop it. We-"

Dean snorted; he let them both know just how much he thought of that.

Sam huffed impatiently. "Alright fine, I thought you wouldn't want to see this world end and you could help us out."

The trickster was looking at them with an expression that could have been inscrutable, but he seemed as if he was considering it, and Sam could have sworn he saw the man's expression darken before it was quickly smoothed over. Dean was glaring at him, intently waiting for a response and Sam knew if he wasn't car, he would be staring just as intently. There was something about the trickster's expression that, while not malicious or cunning, there was something dark and maybe-and then it was gone and Sam nearly cried out in frustration; he wanted to know what that was. The trickster heaved a theatrical sigh, and if Sam had eyes he would have rolled them.

"Well, if you insist-" he held up a hand. "First, you have to play the game, and then we'll talk."

"Game?" Dean looked incredulous.

"Yup."

"What game?" Sam asked.

"The one that's about to start."

There was a loud beep, and Dean looked up. A large box was held up; it had three colors, the red light flared briefly before it died out and the light moved down to the next colored ball. The second light blazed yellow and another beep followed. The engines of the cars flared to life, and Dean quickly turned back to the Trickster.

"What game?" he shouted as Sam called out. "How do we play?"

"You'll see. All ya gotta do is survive." he smile became teasing.

The last beep began as the light changed to green and a loud blare, like a fog horn went off. The cars sped off, moving around the trickster and the Impala. Cheers rose up from the stands. Dean looked wildly at the sudden movement and noise, and he glanced back to see the trickster raising an eyebrow in time with his smirk.

"Better hurry."

Dean looked at him, then to the track, with the cars that were quickly getting smaller and smaller.

"Son of a bitch!" He rasped hastily.

He rapidly put the Impala into gear and slammed onto the pedal. The Impala roared to life, and raced down the pavement. Dean didn't bother to look back; he knew the trickster would be long gone.

"Game my ass!" he shouted. "Next time, just gank the monster. How bout that?" he snapped.

"Oh, just go faster!" Sam yelled.

Dean pressed harder on the gas, and the resulting vroom was deafening. The track looked empty, but the small silhouettes of other cars were fast approaching. The flat line meant they were catching up to the other drivers quickly. Soon they were next to a large ape man, who gave them a wave as he attempted to pass them. The road was beginning to curve.

"Dean turn!" Sam shouted.

Dean grunted with the effort as he gripped the steering wheel tight. The wheel was shuddering with effort, and Sam sounded as if he was gritting his teeth. Suddenly they were surrounded by cars on the turn. They were packed tight in between the other racers and being jostled roughly.

"Just try not to-" Sam strained to speak.

"I know." Dean sounded just as strained.

Dean yelled as he was getting bumped from all sides, and he tried to ignore Sam's irritated groaning as he slammed into other cars in retaliation. The pressure was letting up as the road began to straighten again, and the driver with the colored armor bumped hard into the car next to him. Armor man laughed as the other car careened into two others, sending the three cars spinning out of control and slamming into the guard rail. They tumbled and flipped before slowing down in a grassy lane away from the road. The road was finally straight, and Dean gunned the engine further.

"Pass him." Sam suddenly directed.

Dean knew he meant. "Pass the guy who just took out three drivers?"

"Yeah. We'll have to some time."

"Fair enough."

Dean pedaled hard, suddenly shifting gear and they sped on. They were nose to nose with Armor, and could see him in detail. He was ugly and he grinned meanly at Dean, and Sam gasped. The man grinned, letting his engine gun with extra power, and Dean did the same, grinning at the challenge.

"Show off." Sam muttered.

The man suddenly sped up, and instead of hitting the Impala, he rammed the lizard driver ahead of them. The lizard man gave an oddly shrill cry of protest as he began to get pinned against the wall. Dean swerved to avoid the struggle and yelled when a tire suddenly flew past.

"Holy crap!"

"Now's our chance, keep going!" Sam shouted. "Pass Em!"

Dean shot forward; he could see the destruction of the lizard man's car and grimaced.

"Some game."

"Game." Sam repeated. "Game!" he shouted suddenly.

Dean jerked the steering wheel in surprise and had to serve, narrowly missing a man wearing red overalls; he shouted and gave Dean a rude gesture as he passed them.

"Gee, thanks for telling me." Dean deadpanned. "I couldn't figure it out."

"No really." Sam insisted. "It's a game. An actual game."

Dean blinked. "Wait, like a videogame?"

"Yeah." Sam was enthusiastic now. "Those guys we passed? Bowser and Yoshi."

Dean repeated the names. "Why does that sound familiar?"

"You might have played this game before-"

"What did he call that one chick? Princess Peach?"

"Yeah."

Dean passed the man in red, and braced for the turn.

"I don't really care what it's called, but have you played it?" Dean asked.

"Once. Ok, if I'm remembering right, you could choose how many laps you get. There's the basic three, then five, and then nine? Point is, it just keeps going up and up."

Dean groaned. "Please be three."

"If it is, then we've only got one left."

"You should have said that sooner!"

Dean began to jostle the other cars for an opening. He moved forward, finding an open spot before suddenly slamming backwards into the ape man's car. Ape man roared as he spun out of control and his car finally landed upside down in the grass.

"Did you see that!?" Dean cheerfully yelled.

"Show off."

Dean laughed and sped forward, swerving erratically to avoid the other cars.

"Ugh. Do you have to do that?" Sam moaned.

Dean laughed, but evened out and he pushed past a man in green, and narrowly avoided getting stuck in between two other drivers. The black and white checkered banner was waving up ahead. The drivers saw and began to zoom forwards. Shouts from the stands were shattering, and the racers were thinning out despite their determination. Somehow it became just the Impala and the tiny pink jeep belonging to Princess Peach. She was starting to overtake them, and Dean cried out in frustration.

"Dean!" Sam shouted. "Behind us!"

Dean looked in the rearview mirror. Bowser was back and gaining speed. He was already nudging Princess Peach's bumper. She was yelling at the man as she tried to gain more speed. Dean swerved when the two got too close and Sam cried out when one of jeep's rims hit the hood of the Impala. Dean changed gears again, and pushed the pedal so hard, it touched the floor. It was at that moment that Princess Peach tried to veer into Bowser, but she missed and she skidded off the track, and Bowser finally lost control of his car. He fishtailed into the Impala before careening into a wall. The impact of his blow sent the Impala forward and they rocketed past the finishing line.

The cheering of the crowd heightened as people leapt up from their seats, and an announcer began shouting from somewhere, but neither brother cared.

"Brake!" Sam screamed.

Dean swerved to avoid a spectators stand as they barreled off the track at top speed. A road block didn't stop them and Dean tried to wrestle back control; people were mere blurs as he blared the horn on instinct. He slammed on the brake, but it didn't slow soon enough and he couldn't stop or turn in time to avoid the fence that blocked their path.

They hit it with enough force that Dean's teeth rattled, and he was slammed into his seat. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was reminded of a scene from a John Hughes movie, but he lost the thought as they slammed into the fence.

They were flying, and Sam's shouting was the only thing he heard. They slammed down with enough force to bounce back up when they hit the ground. Dean shouted as he tumbled back down into the grass, finally stopping when something solid could prevent him from moving. He heard Sam groan next to him, and when Dean opened his eyes, the Impala was nowhere to be seen.

"Sam?"

He heard his voice rasp, but he didn't care; the body next to him moved easily.

"Yeah I'm ok. Least I'm not a car anymore."

Dean craned his neck to see his brother, but all he could see were feathers and-

"Dean?"

Dean jumped at the voice. It was definitely Sam's, but it sounded weird. Almost like some kind of squawk. He could see the beak moving, but it was forming human words, clacking with the effort. The black beads were eyes and they regarded Dean with intelligence. It flapped wings experimentally and possibly with confusion. It craned its neck and looked down at itself. The wings flapped suddenly, almost like a human slumping its shoulders, and it sighed. A human sound coming out of a bird was quite possibly the strangest thing Dean had ever seen. His head was beginning to spin with the surreal combination.

"Dammit." it said. "Dean is that you?"

Dean was about to reply, _'Of course it is stupid,' _but then he looked down at himself, and didn't see shoes but webbed feet, and he moved his arm, hoping to see the usual, but jumped back when feathers entered his line of vision.

"Oh my God."

The world went a little tilty as the bird-Sam quickly went over to him with wings outstretched. They touched his shoulders and Dean flinched.

"Take it easy."

Dean took a breath and the world became clearer again. He could see each blade of grass easily. If Sam could be a car, then he could be a bird.

"I'm gonna kill him."

"Let's survive first."

There was a snuffling sound, and the two moved closer together. The grass began to ripple and twitch. There was a sudden low growl before something huge burst through the grass. It began to bark, jaws snapping up and down. Its head was black and huge; it didn't look like a hound, but it dived at them.

"Fly!" Sam called.

"How?!" Dean shouted back.

The two jumped and hovered, narrowing avoiding the teeth that brushed their wings. Dean flapped his wings wildly as the dog's paws thundered over the ground, sending up plumes of dirt.

"Like this!"

Sam jumped at the dog, letting his wings batter the dog's face, and it howled in anger and Dean took his chance. He started to run, his feet making him stumble as he opened his wings, and let them flare outward. A breeze was beginning to swirl beneath them and he jumped. He shouted as he flapped his wings frantically, trying to stay up. The dog jumped, but he dodged, and angled himself so he could see behind him. Sam was across from him, and weaving tightly back and forth from the dog, that was whining in frustration.

"You ok?" he called.

Sam answered by flying closer to him, and Dean watched carefully as his brother's wings beat at a more sedate pace. The dog howled and circled the ground before them, baying loudly. It only jumped a few times, its tail raised high.

Dean laughed, or well it would have been a laugh, if birds could.

"Dude, you sound so weird." Sam commented.

"Shut up, you look-"

A sudden rip in the air sliced past them. The sound was loud and it cracked, only stopping when it hit a tree. The two fluttered, and the resulting breeze made Dean flap at the air in agitation.

"Damn birds!" a voice shouted.

Another whiz of deadly air went past, the smell of metal getting overwhelming. They were unharmed, but when Dean looked down he could see-

"Bobby?!" Sam cried out in confusion.

"Get outta my yard!" he shouted and he raised his rifle higher.

Another shot went off. It rang through the air, and the sound was shattering. More shots were ringing out; this version of Bobby was a good a shot as the one in real life. Sam swerved to avoid a bullet and shouted. Dean flinched when one got too close to his face.

"Dive!" he shouted to Sam.

"The dog-"

Dean pushed down, letting his feathers brush the grass, and heard Sam follow him.

"Sic em' Rumsfeld!" they heard Bobby shout.

The dog took off like a shot, its panting was loud behind them and its teeth nipped at their tails and feet.

"Damn and I used to like this game!" Dean shouted.

"So did I." Sam replied.

"I never felt bad for the ducks before." Dean panted.

"Well, it would have been too easy if we were the ones' doing the shooting-"

"Hang on, I've got an idea."

Dean wheeled away from the dog, and shot upwards.

"Dean?!" Sam called.

"None of the birds ever did this in the game!"

Dean soared upwards and the shots rang out again, and Sam just stared as Dean went straight for Bobby. He dived, ignoring the rifle and Bobby's shouts. Bobby had now stopped shooting and was now just swinging the rifle at Dean.

Sam wasn't sure if he should be alarmed or amused. He was pretty sure they'd never do something like this again. He wasn't even sure if they could actually get hurt-

"Ahhrrgh!"

Scratch that, they could. Bobby had managed to hit Dean with the butt of the rifle. Sam raced forward, and swooped down just as Bobby was prepared to hit Dean again. Sam's wings knocked off Bobby's hat and he circled over the older man, blocking Dean from his sight.

"Thanks man." Dean panted, as well as ducks could anyway.

"Just run!"

Dean swooped even lower, and flew inside the house. Sam cried out, and followed. He pressed forward.

"Idjit birds get outta there!" Bobby yelled from behind.

The inside of the house was cluttered and messy. It was pretty much the same as real Bobby's house, fireplace included. Dean hastily landed by it, flapping his wings. He seemed to be looking for something, and Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes, if ducks could do that, that is.

"You know we don't have thumbs right?" he asked.

"Hey, you never know what could happen-"

Bobby ran into the room, and his footsteps thundered towards them. He grabbed what looked like a box of shells, and Sam tried to run as he fast as he could to Dean.

"Fireplace!"

Dean gave him a quick glance before leaping up, and flapping up. He hovered, frantically beating his wings as he climbed up. Sam raced behind him, nudging his brother upwards, as a shot missed him by inches. Sam battered Dean with his wings, and together the two managed to crawl up. Bullets were missing them by wider margins, and chips of brick tumbled down on them, and clung to them.

The farther they crawled, the more quiet it got, and the darker it became. Dean slipped a bit, and bumped back into Sam. He heard his brother's grunt of protest.

"Sorry."

He grabbed for leverage and nearly yelled in relief. He had hands again, and he gleefully wiggled his fingers, laughing.

"Dean." Sam's voice was muffled. "Your hands are-your hands!" he shouted.

Dean couldn't help but cheer when his hands groped around Sam, and he could feel a face. He figured that was the only reason why Sam hadn't pushed him off.

"Thumbs feel pretty good, huh Sammy?"

He could feel Sam's smile. "Yeah, but this is getting a little awkward."

"Ok, ok. Let's get the hell out of here."

Dean hauled himself back up, and pushed himself forward. They didn't say much as they moved, and there was a pale pinprick of light. Dean moved faster and the pinprick grew to the size of a globe, and soon his hands hit air and he pulled himself up and he clambered out, grabbing Sam's hands when they waved in the air. Sam hauled himself up and looked at Dean.

"Ok, where do you think we are now?" Dean asked.

Sam just looked at him, lips twitching. He snorted; face twisting briefly before smoothing it over. He opened his mouth, but no words just came out, just strangled noises. A keening giggle from the back of his throat was the only sound that came out. Dean stared at him in surprise but before he could react further, Sam's face scrunched again and he pointed one shaking finger at Dean before he slumped.

"You-"

Sam made another sound before bursting into laughter. Dean looked down at himself. He was no longer wearing his jeans, dark t-shirt, or his leather jacket. Instead he was wearing bright cherry red overalls. Sam was still pointing, and Dean reached up and felt a hat, going down lower and feeling something bristly on his face. A mustache. Sam was positively howling with laughter. Dean looked back at Sam.

"You're not much better yourself."

Sam looked down at himself. He was wearing the same outfit, except in vivid green. Sam felt a mustache of his own, but he shrugged and burst into another fit of laughter.

"You're like the jolly green giant!" Dean exclaimed.

Sam didn't bother with a retort, and he tried to stop his laughing. He cleared his throat.

"I guess it's pretty obvious where we are." his voice was breathy with suppressed laughter.

Dean nodded and looked out to see the tiny bumps of mountains in the distance. He made towards them, but stumbled back. Extending his hand, he moved forward until he felt something solid press against his hand. There was nothing to suggest what felt like a wall. Dean's hand was pressed next to thin air. Sam's eyes widened at the sight.

"How bout' that?" Dean asked.

"Well I guess we shouldn't be surprised. This must be the original one."

"The original?"

"Yeah, remember it was a side scroller. You could only go back or forward."

Dean nodded in a vague way, suggesting he probably remembered, but didn't press the point. He began to walk forward, looking at the bars that occasionally hung over their heads. A shiny gold disc hovered in the air and Dean pulled it out of the air, inspecting it.

"So what is the point?"

Sam watched Dean fling the coin into the air, and it clattered onto the ground, frightening one of the small scuttling creatures that were approaching them. Sam ducked to avoid a flying creature, and exhaled deeply.

"Well a videogame is something you play." he began slowly. "They have certain…things that you do." he explained, moving his hands. "You collect things, kill the mooks, get power ups and eventually try and kill the final boss."

"Ok, sure, but why this?"

"Hmm, well maybe the type of game is the clue."

"Type?"

Sam elaborated. "These games are old. Like some of the first that were made, and were easy to get." he paused, an idea coming to him. "These games are very straight forward, simple, and it was pretty easy to figure out what you had to do to win." A theory was coming faster. "In the racing game, well you race to get first place. In the last one, you shoot the birds. I think we're just supposed to play along."

"That sounds familiar." Dean's voice was dark with suspicion. "What's the objective of this game?"

"You collect coins, kill the bad guys, and travel around the levels to get to the big boss." Sam looked thoughtful. "Familiar? You're thinking the trickster has friends in high places?"

"Maybe." Dean continued. "You sure about him helping? Seems flighty." he remarked.

Sam shrugged. "I think getting out of here is the only way he'll listen. It'll be pain in the ass, but something-"

Whatever he was going to say next was interrupted as something scuttled towards them; it was tiny but fast. Dean moved back, looking for a weapon.

"A mook right?" he asked.

Sam nodded. Dean took a running leap, avoiding the creature. It growled and turned back, zipping forward. Dean suddenly moved, kicking his leg forward, punting the creature. It soared into the air before crashing to the ground and disappearing.

Dean continued on, with Sam behind. They stuffed the shiny coins in their pockets, jumping over monsters, and the gaps in the ground. Sam nearly hit his head on the bars that floated above them a couple of times, but they were great for climbing.

Dean stopped and pointed up ahead. He was pointing at a red and white puff, with a face was staring back at them with a smile. It floated by itself, and Dean turned to look at Sam.

"That's just creepy."

"It's a mushroom. They're good for you."

This earned a laughed out of Dean. "Never thought I'd hear you say that."

He strode towards it, and plucked it out of the sky. He turned it over in his hands, and it kept smiling at him. Sam peered at it over his shoulder.

"Do I have to eat it?" Dean asked.

"Ummm, how about no."

Alternate reality or not, Sam didn't really want to see his brother munch on weird things they weren't even sure was real. Dean shrugged and was about to toss it when a strange rasping noise made them look up.

"Oh what now?" Dean griped.

A few meters away was a large plant, and it had spotted them. It made another rasping noise, and opened its mouth.

"Venus flytrap?" Sam asked to no one in particular.

It had a tongue like thing in its mouth, and the sound it made this time was like a cat trying to hack up a hairball. Instead of something slimy, a small ball of fire shot out and it landed at the boys' feet.

"Plants that shoot fireballs?" Dean blinked slowly. "The guys who make these things are seriously cracked out." he intoned. "Ok, any way to get past it?"

Sam frowned, trying to remember. "Umm, I think every few minutes, it'll go back down to where it came from." he pointed to the green tube the plant was sitting on.

"You think?"

Sam shrugged. "Worth a shot."

Dean raised the mushroom like it was a weapon, and he cautiously walked forward. The plant slumped down, gurgling unhappily. Dean crouched a bit, waiting for the plant to move, when it didn't he rushed forward, launching himself forward and leapt onto the plant. It shrieked in fury, and Dean raised the mushroom high and began to slam it down onto the plant, using it like a club.

"Now!" he shouted.

Sam dashed forward, his palms hitting the green tube, and he rapidly pulled himself up and felt Dean grappling with the plant, jaw tense from holding the creature back as he slammed the now sad looking mushroom into the plant, as he tried to shove it into the monster's mouth.

"I got this!"

Sam slid down and let his feet slap the ground hard. He turned and looked behind him. The plant monster was choking on the mushroom, its jaws scissoring frantically and its alarmed grunting was muffled as the mushroom stayed trapped in place. It whipped itself crazily around, and Dean had to duck and roll to avoid getting hit. He landed onto the ground with a thump and he hastily righted himself. The plant reared up as the two began move forward. It gave a throaty rumbling, and the edges of its mouth smoked; it shook itself again, and a crackling noise suddenly started up.

Flames licked at the rims of its jaws, it keened before it hacked up a fire ball. Sam and Dean jumped back, missing the hit. The fireball thumped weakly onto the ground, smoldering gently. The charred mushroom stared back at them, but the plant was still shrieking as its own fire was beginning cover it. It thrashed before wilting, turning completely black before it shriveled up and disappeared.

The green tube was now free; Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

"This how we get outta here?" Dean asked.

"Yeah."

"Well going down ought to be easier than going up."

Together they moved to the tube, and Sam clambered in after Dean. It was dark inside, and it was a straight drop. It was almost like a water park slide, except they didn't know where they would end up next. It was over as quickly as it began and Dean managed to keep to his feet and he straightened himself just as Sam fell, crashing into Dean.

"Ahrrgh!"

Sam pulled himself up, offering Dean a hand. Dean took it and hauled Dean up.

"You good?"

"Terrific."

"Where are we?"

It was a tunnel, dimly lit and they could see it went on for a long time. Dean peered over the edge; it seemed they were rather high up. Sam scanned with his hands, and he felt the resistance against them.

"We're in another side scroller."

"Delightful."

A sudden rumbling made the ground shake, and the two spread out their arms for balance, grabbing each other's jackets.

"Lemme guess, it's a big boulder coming towards us." Dean said.

"Don't think they ever made a game from that."

There was a bigger boom, and the ground shuddered more violently and the sound of something large and fast approaching made the walls shake. The air howled, wind was sucking downward as the thing barreled down the way. It was large and yellow, looking more like a ball than a boulder. It rolled at high speed, and when it rolled one final time, there was a gaping black hole cutting sharply into the ball. It looked like it was struggling to right itself; the hole was moving up and down, almost like a mouth. It began to move, the two 'lips' flapping with a horrific efficiency. It was headed straight towards them.

"Wait-" Sam started.

Dean tugged on his sleeve to get Sam going. "Pac-man?! Really?!" he shouted.

"Guess the trickster really does like it old school." Sam panted.

"Oh, we should play the game," Dean mocked, "It's really simple."

"Oh shut up. At least we're not in _Legend of Zelda_."

SPNTMI

Castiel and Alec scanned the building. They had been locked out of it for a while now; when Castiel tried to find Sam and Dean again, he opened a door, and it led him outside. When he tried to get back in, it was sealed against him. He headed back towards Alec, who had was just as bewildered and had found himself unable to go back inside as well.

Castiel turned to Alec to watch the Shadowhunter pull out a weapon, or at least what seemed to be a weapon. It was one of the slender stick objects, and Castiel watched Alec make a writing motion with it along the side of the building. It looked as though he had written the word for _'open', _but it didn't look the way he was used to. It didn't seem to work because Alec cursed.

Castiel blinked; he could sense his own frustration and if he were in a wry mood, he would attribute it to the Winchester brothers. However, he needed to get them out of the building. Castiel raised his hand and pressed his palm against the building. Closing his eyes, he searched for whatever was binding the building with prickling energy. He frowned; he wouldn't be able to break it easily.

Alec cleared his throat. "So…did that work?"

Castiel turned to him. "I'm afraid getting back inside will be more difficult that I thought."

"Even with your…power?" Alec asked hesitatingly.

Castiel simply looked at Alec curiously; it took him a few moments to realize that Alec was anxious of offending him, or at least that was what Castiel assumed. He paused to try and find a proper response. Castiel peered at Alec, who made the boy shift at the scrutiny and he flushed slightly.

"If I had offended you, I'm sorry."

"You have not." Castiel assured. "Some things are simply more difficult to do, considering that I rebelled."

"Oh." Alec wasn't sure what to say. He cleared his throat "If you don't mind my asking, how is it that you became indebted to two mundanes-er, hunters?"

Castiel's reply came to him. "That is difficult to explain. I had orders, and when they involved the Winchesters." Castiel was confused at his inarticulation. "They have always defied expectation, including the circumstances that led us here."

Alec was politely curious. "So…they are part of your mission?"

"In a way." Castiel blinked. "It is because of them that I rebelled."

"Isn't that a bad thing?" Alec asked.

Castiel looked pained. "It's complicated. However-" he cut himself off, frowning.

There was a sudden crashing sound; something very heavy had been suddenly dislodged. There was a loud clattering of metal hitting the ground. Trash rattled the ground, sending it in all directions. The sound was echoing, and then the stench hit. Alec wrinkled his nose, but Castiel stepped back, briefly overcome.

The sudden sounds made the two freeze. Alec's eyes widened in shock; those were familiar noises. Snuffling, rasping, growling, and snarling. They were getting closer, and Alec slowly reached for a weapon. Castiel watched and he tensed. He watched as Alec pulled out one of his slim tubes. Alec pressed himself against the wall, and after a moment, Castiel followed suit. The sounds were getting closer, just around the corner from them. Alec's heart was pounding, and he brought the tube to his lips. He closed his, trying to quiet his breathing.

A roar and Alec felt the hot, acrid breath on his face. He didn't have time to shout. It revealed its gaping mouth, and tentacles wrapped themselves around Alec's neck. He could see its red-suckers, the needle-like teeth inches from his eyes-

Alec was pulled back, feet skimming the ground. He stumbled, gaining his footing and he looked ahead. Castiel had yanked him back; his blade glimmered as it slashed at the tentacles that were previously strangling Alec. As he cut it, it hissed and black fluid gushed out of the wound. Castiel made a noise of disgust, hastily moving away from the thick liquid.

"Another monstrosity." his voice sounded like thunder.

Castiel moved to Alec's side. The first creature was almost human shaped and its bulging eyes stared hungrily at them. Its tentacles were bursting out from its wrists, as if it had shed its hands. They were a slimy dead grey, which matched the rest of its skin. The only color it had was the red suckers, sore and infected looking, and the needles inside them could be clearly seen; they clacked together, moving with excitement. It was like they strained to shoot out from the rest of the body and pierce them. The black fluid dripped down onto the ground.

"Be careful." Alec cautioned, gesturing to the dripping blackness. "Its blood is poison."

"Unsurprising." Castiel intoned, his lips pulled back in a feral grimace.

Another rumbling noise and two more creatures appeared. They were opposing in appearance, and looked nothing like the tentacled one. The first was rather large, but it moved fast on its paw-like hands. It had a monkey-ish quality to it, but it had an enormous stinger tail, it swung obscenely to and fro. Its eyes looked jaundiced and seemed to have trouble focusing on them, but it hissed threateningly all the same. It pulled back dirty lips to reveal jagged and broken teeth. It made way for the second beast.

The second beast was larger and more fearsome looking than the previous two, which moved to quickly flank it. This one had grey, almost elephantine skin. However, it looked more like a rhinoceros in build. Its head was enormous, with a large spiny horn emerging from its forehead and it emitted a horrible smell. It shook itself, and scales fell off its body. Roaring, it moved forward, claws scraping the ground like nails against a blackboard. It lowered its head, preparing to charge and spindles could be seen all along its back. Its tail thumped in warning, and when it came into full view, it resembled a python with numerous eyes covering its body.

"By the Angel," Alec whispered. "A Raum and a Scorprios? But what the _hell_ is the other one?!"

Castiel glanced at Alec, who was still holding the tube in his hand. He seemed to snap out of it and he turned to Castiel.

"Any ideas?" he asked.

"The large one poses a problem." Castiel rumbled. "That one first."

Alec nodded, grimmer than before. He gripped the tube hard in his hand, barely sparing it a glance before calling out.

"_Arathiel." _

The tube blazed to life and within seconds it burst out, slicing the air and elongating into a thin blade. It pulsed with power; Castiel's grace spiked at the clear blade's power, which seemed to respond to Castiel as well as Alec.

Castiel felt a divide in his attention; the blade was _alive_, full of an energy of its own. It responded to the now surging force in Alec, and Castiel felt his own power tremble in anticipation. It was almost as if he was side by side with one of his brothers again, and a sudden pang went through him. The power was vibrating through all three of them, and suddenly Castiel felt a new acuteness, and it began to enhance his spirit. He was ready to fight.

Castiel gripped the handle of his own blade, the black blood smudged on its tip, and his lip curled in momentary disgust. He was about to spill more blood. Castiel shifted his stance, letting it resemble Alec's. The creature roared, and the two beside him flung themselves forward, and a second later the large beast lowered its head and began to charge.

SPNTMI

Sam and Dean stopped running and were greeted by a cheering crowd. They entered into a large stadium, and it was jam packed with people. The two stepped back in surprise.

"Well it looks like our challengers have finally arrived!"

Both jumped and turned to the voice. It was coming from a table on the sidelines. They were protected by a large glass wall that looked very sturdy. The table had at least five people, and each one had a microphone next to them. One energetic looking man was clutching his and shouting happily into it.

"This panel has been eagerly awaiting this match for a while now!"

"Exactly!" cried a man to his left. "This should be exciting!"

"Well let's get started." a woman replied impatiently.

Suddenly at a gesture from the first man, men wearing stripped shirts strode over to Sam and Dean, carrying trays.

"Shall we get started?" one asked Sam, thrusting a tray into his hands.

"Umm-okay?"

"Good."

Dean looked down at his own tray, which was gently pushed into his hands. It held six red and white striped balls. He looked at Sam, then back down to the tray.

"Is this what I think it is?" he asked.

Sam looked down at his own. "Oh I think so."

Without any more prompting, one of the stripe shirted men led Sam to the other end of the stadium. Sam looked back at Dean, who gave him a grimace of consternation. The crowd cheered when Sam was finally put in his spot. It was at the end of the circular field, so that he and Dean stood at opposing ends. Each one now stood on a small platform that had a small surface to put their trays. Railing prevented them from falling, even if the drop would only have been three feet at the most.

Sam looked down at his panel. It held a screen, and he took out one of the striped balls and put it into the slot beneath the screen. Suddenly the screen flickered to life. Bold text flashed and read:

'Scanning Data'

A second later a picture appeared on the screen, a name beneath it. Sam had a flash of nostalgia as he recognized the name.

Lapras.

Pressing a few buttons next to the screen got him to realize he could look at each individuals type and stats. He quickly slid the five remaining balls into the slot. The data came back faster. Names came up in rapid succession. Latias, Espeon, Ampharus, Misdreavus, and Typholsion.

"Not a bad set."

Sam turned to look at another button beneath a much smaller screen. Curious, he pressed it. He heard a small beep and Dean's voice came in crystal clear.

"-what, son of a-"

"Dean."

"Sammy?" Dean sounded harassed.

"Yeah, can you see me?"

"…Hang on."

A beep later and Sam could see Dean's face fill the tiny screen. He looked as annoyed as he had sounded.

"The hell?" Dean scowled. "I never played this game."

The cheers of the crowd started up again, and a screen suddenly descended from the ceiling of the stadium. It stopped, hanging in the center and it came to life, showing close ups of both brothers. Sam stared back, rolling his eyes, and seeing his expression mirrored back in high definition.

"I have." Sam backpedaled slightly. "But only a few times."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Ok."

"Ok." Sam replied, then: "Okay, did you put your balls in the slot?" he asked.

"That's a little personal don't ya think?"

"Shut up, you know what I mean."

Dean grinned, and Sam could hear him putting each poke ball into the slot. The beeps were loud as Dean fiddled with the controls.

"Huh. Think I got a good haul." Dean whistled. "They look kinda cool. How do I do this?"

The commentators suddenly started talking, a loud speaker amplifying the voice.

"Now remember," It said. "This is a trophy match, all levels accepted, and each player can have up to six Pokémon on their team. If a Pokémon faints, it cannot be put back in play. There is no time limit. Players will begin at the horn."

The crowd cheered, and the sound assaulted them from every corner.

"It's like a complicated rock-paper-scissors. Fire beats Grass, Water beats Fire. Each type has a strength and a weakness. Stats can help you pick with type is the best of its kind, but you want a balanced team. Knowing their moves really helps because some have attacks that can do different things, and having a variety of moves means you can win easier. Some even have moves from other types." he quickly explained.

"You've only played a couple of times?"

"Shut up."

The horn blared. Sam looked through his pool and quickly selected one. He looked up to see Dean reluctantly lift one ball out.

"Throw it." Sam called. "On three!"

"One. Two. Three!"

Both threw. Sam watched Dean hurl the ball into the air. It sailed high before opening midair. A flash of light made them squint, but it was quickly gone, and then their monsters were on the field.

Dean blinked in surprise at what he saw. Huge monsters. His own was standing upright on thick hind legs, and each limb had vicious claws. Dean's had spines all the way from head to tail, and its tail was triple pronged. All of it looked scaly and hard, and if he tried to touch it, his skin would slough off. It was an off green color except for a patch of dark color on its belly.

"Oh Dean Winchester has put Tyranitar into play!" the first commentator shouted.

"A very aggressive opening move." said the second.

"But it matches Sam Winchester, who is starting things off with his Typholsion." a third one replied.

Dean glowered at the commentators' box, but turned to get a look at Sam's monster. It was just as huge as his own, but more colorful. It was two toned, with a blue roan coat, with a light colored underbelly. It had a huge mane of fire, and it was jetting outwards aggressively. It roared at his monster with a huge head full of teeth. It reared up on its hind legs before crashing back down onto all fours. The two creatures looked ready to tear into each other, the only thing stopping them their masters' commands.

"Wanna get this party started?" Dean asked.

"Whenever you're ready." Sam replied.

"Attack!" Dean shouted.

Tyranitar roared and raced towards Typholsion. Sam shouted, and jets of flame shot out of Typholsion's mouth. Tyranitar bellowed in pain, and charged. The impact sent Typholsion staggering. It reared back on its haunches, bracing for more. Dirt was kicked up, gathering around the two creatures. Flames were crackling on the ground, and the feet of the grappling beasts quickly put them out. Tyranitar lowered itself to the ground and swung its tail high, hitting Typholsion full in the face. It bit down of the tail, seemingly not caring if its mouth caught the spikes. It was growling in pain, but the inside of its mouth glowed.

Flames suddenly consumed Tyranitar, and it writhed and whirled on Typholsion in a fury. Its huge claws raking Typholsion's face, which made the flame creature scream in pain. It spun, mouth still clamped onto Tyranitar as it leaned on the other, bearing down. The two crashed into the ground, scattering debris and popping ear drums with the sound of their impact.

They roared, their heavy limbs crushing into the ground. Typholsion struggled to move away from Tyranitar, and Sam suddenly called out a command. A sudden wheel shaped burst of flame barreled into Tyranitar, and the other monster leapt up and scrambled to get away.

"Throw something at him!" Dean shouted.

Tyranitar didn't need prompting, and it growled as it hefted up a large rock with crude paws. Its aim was rough but it hit Typholsion, who snarled in anger and its fire plumed mane burned brighter. It shot out a lethal stream of fire, but missed. It fired bursts of flame, and Tyranitar lumbering, managed to dodge them. Tyranitar moved steadily, hurling rocks at Typholsion, who blasted some of them, but shot fireballs at Tyranitar's feet.

"Guess my Tyrant-Tire is gonna beat your Typo-Explosion." Dean commented.

"We'll see." Sam countered, not unamused. "And its Tyranitar and Typholsion."

"Whatever."

Tyranitar was in front of Typholsion, and its long, serrated claws dug into Typholsion's shaggy fur. The fire monster screamed as it was suddenly hefted into the air. Tyranitar rumbled in triumph and threw Typholsion. It hurtled through the air, and Tyranitar gave chase as Typholsion slammed into a wall, its thick body making a crater. It screeched in pain as Tyranitar slammed into Typholsion, pushing it farther into the wall and making the crater even larger.

Typholsion seemed to groan, and its jaws trembling. Smoke was unfurling from its mouth, and it growled before the crackling of flames overtook the sound. Fire shot out, hitting Tyranitar square in the chest. The molten stream shot Tyranitar high into the air.

The crowd screamed as Tyranitar plummeted into the hard earth, shattering it on impact. Chunks of rock flew in all directions, landing just a few feet from the audience. This drew gasps from them as large fragments of rock, some almost boulder sized, sailed high into the air and then rained down on Tyranitar.

It growled feebly before slumping down, and Typholsion hissed in pain and did not move. There was a brief silence and then a tumultuous wave of sound. The commentators began shouting again, gripping their microphones tight and pressing the black bulbs hard to their lips.

"It's a double knockout! Amazing-they knocked each other out!"

"Incredible start to a match!"

Dean watched Sam pull out a poke ball and recalled his Typholsion. He quickly mimicked his brother.

"Is it over?" he asked.

"No we've still got five more to go."

Dean groaned. He looked at his pool, and picked up another ball as he glanced at its stats. He shrugged and threw the ball. The Pokémon appeared quickly, and with a trumpeted cry.

"And now, Dean Winchester has brought out his Donphan."

"But what will Sam choose? That's the question."

Sam rolled his eyes at the commentary, but he already knew what his choice would be. He grabbed a ball, pulled back his arm, and threw quickly. With a delicate cry, his next creature appeared on the field.

"Oh it's Lapras!"

The two creatures faced each other, much more contrasting than the previous two. Donphan was some sort of elephantine creature with an armored back of dark leather. It had two long curving tusks that flanked a thick powerful trunk. Donphan stomped its large feet in agitation. It was a powerful, aggressive looking beast.

Lapras was much more graceful looking, with an arching neck that tapered downwards, and had powerful flippers. It looked like a cross between some kind of whale and a dolphin. Its large, coral-like saddle contrasted with its blue skin. It cried out, its curlicue ears wriggled and it undulated in challenge.

Dean fiddled with the controls on his panel, and he quietly read the stats and moves. He looked up, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Donphan, use rollout!" he called.

Donphan cried out, springing into the air, curling into a ball. It shot forward, heading straight for Lapras. The water beast barely got out of the way, giving a musical cry as it did. Donphan expertly turned, rolling with deadly precision at Lapras. This time, its aim was true. Lapras was bowled over, whimpering in pain. Its flippers flapped at the air as it struggled to right itself, and Sam quickly shouted commands.

As Donphan spun around for another hit, Lapras finally righted itself and opened its mouth wide. A thick torrent of water jetted out, as powerful as a fireman's hose. It caught Donphan off guard, sending it stumbling. Donphan was forcibly unfurled, and blown off path.

"Keep using rollout!" shouted Dean.

Donphan leapt up and curled itself with efficiency. Its speed was impressive for its bulk, and Lapras had trouble moving. Its flippers were firmly anchored to the dry ground.

"Lapras sing!" Sam urged.

Lapras opened its mouth wide, and a melodious pitch poured out. It was delicate, soft, and slightly eerie. Donphan weaved erratically, but instead of slowing down, it just went faster. Its tusks tore into the ground, deep ruts forming in crazy trails. Donphan snuffled as it careened into Lapras, tusks goring the shell saddle. Lapras screeched in pain as tusks and trunk slammed into its body, mercilessly slashing and slamming.

"Surf!" came Sam's shout.

Lapras gave another cry and water suddenly surged outwards, knocking Donphan far off course. Water still poured out, filling the deep ruts and pooling out. Donphan trumpeted in agitation as its large feet caught in the quickly developing mud. It tried desperately to escape, mud sucking and squelching beneath it. Donphan finally freed itself, but had to leap high to avoid getting trapped again. There wasn't much space to use rollout again, but a sudden blast of water from Lapras knocked Donphan off its feet.

It landed on its back, armor quickly sinking into the muck. Donphan's legs frantically waved in the air, unable to right itself. Its trunk was straining upwards, sucking down air. Another thick stream of water shot out, and it was enough to knock Donphan back several feet. It slipped through the mud, unable to gain footing. Lapras continued to spray out water until Donphan was finally stopped by the podium with a heavy thud.

Dean grabbed the railing to prevent himself from falling, the impact shuddering through the metal frame. He looked down to see his Donphan dazedly try to stand before wobbling and then, crumpling to the ground. Dean looked up to see Lapras before recalling his creature.

"Show off."

Dean barely glanced at his roster and threw another ball. The brief flash of light was harsh on the eyes, and was stood on the soggy ground was a beast much bigger than Donphan. It roared assertively as it swung its flaming tail back and forth. The commentators were in an uproar.

"Oh-Dean Winchester is going with Charizard!"

"This is pretty shocking-a daring move!"

"What is he trying to do?"

Sam looked at the commentators, and back to Dean.

"You do realize Charizard is a fire type right?" at Dean's nod he continued. "And that Lapras is a water type?"

"My guy can fly." Dean countered. "Fly!" he shouted to Charizard.

Charizard took to the skies, beating its powerful wings. The wind could be heard as it made the water slosh on the ground. Lapras cried out as it began to get slapped by the waves. The wind rocked both Lapras and Sam's stand, both swaying despite being firmly anchored. Lapras quickly gained control, flapping its flippers with a steady pounding.

"Attack!" shouted Dean.

Charizard acknowledged the command with a roar. It opened its mouth wide, revealing jagged yellow teeth. There was a crackling sound, and the entire inside of its mouth was suddenly illuminated. It was like sensing the lightening before it struck, seeing it arrive in that nano-second before oblivion. Molten fire shot outwards, spewing like lethal vomit.

"Whirlpool!" Sam yelled.

Lapras suddenly moved, magnificent flippers slapping and stroking the water. The water began to move faster, shimmying upwards until it created a wall that managed to keep itself erect. The fireball hit the wall, put out instantly. Smoke billowed against the wall. Said wall sloshed downwards, but the smoke lingered, not quite filling the air.

"Again. Keep shooting." Dean directed.

Charizard began its attack again, and the wall rose up; Lapras pulled the water that surrounded it, and Charizard dived low, seeing the weakness. It fired another shot. The flame went straight for Lapras's face and it spat out a jet of water. It caught the fireball, extinguishing it. Charizard swerved sharply upwards to avoid getting blasted. The water wall came crashing down, nearly dousing Charizard's tail, it roared in frustration as it struggled to soar away from Lapras, who blasted another jet of water. Charizard wheeled, letting loose another sweeping blaze of fire. It did not hit Lapras, but the water. Flames briefly crackled by Lapras's body, illuminating its blue skin before vanishing. Smoke hissed, its disembodied form hovering close to the water. Lapras shook its head.

"Fire at the water." Dean called out suddenly.

Sam shouted in surprise as the winged monster created more heat, a large ring of fire surrounding Lapras. It was put out quickly, but then created again just as quickly. Steam gathered, making the water waver and blur. Sam rapidly blinked; sweat was getting in his eyes. He could see Lapras was in a similar state, the creature was struggling to breathe. Its skin gleamed eerily and looked oddly sick. The water surrounding it was boiling, bubbles popped next to Lapras, and it undulated with discomfort, wailing in pain. Charizard swooped low at a command, and Sam countered swiftly. Lapras's voice was shaky, but its attack still made Charizard swerve. Its fire scorched high into the air, making tight turns. It twisted suddenly, nose diving straight at Lapras. Another fire attack was building up, but Lapras countered and Charizard and the large beast got a face full of water. It choked, steam clouding its face. It back pedaled hastily, wings punching the air.

Dean lifted up the poke ball, recalling Charizard, and he threw another ball in the air. His next beast filled the arena with a raspy screech.

"Well a smart move." one commentator spoke up.

"Especially since that could have been the end of Charizard." said the second.

"We probably haven't seen the last of it." replied the third.

"With Gyrados now in play, you're probably right." a fourth said.

"Oh God, shut up." Dean groused.

The Gyrados unfurled itself. It was a scaly, serpentine behemoth with strong jaws and wicked eyes. The steam that surrounded it made it shimmer ominously. It opened its mouth wide; teeth were revealed to be deadly and precise. The boiling water did not bother it; the scales on its body glimmered. It made Lapras look weak and soft by comparison. Gyrados sunk into the water, its eyes the last thing to be seen as it glared at Lapras.

"This sounds cool. Rage attack!" Dean ordered.

Gyrados rumbled in reply, water rippling with response. The beast was no longer seen, but was quickly heard. Water rushed forward, and Lapras could not get away fast enough. Gyrados's gigantic tail slapped Lapras, batting the creature mercilessly. Lapras wailed as it was assaulted with blow after blow; they came so fast that there was no time to react, and Lapras was flipped and tossed into the air, crashing down with a violent splash. Gyrados was snarling as its scales rubbed into Lapras's skin and cuts appeared. It was unable to follow Sam's commands as they were quickly rebuffed by Gyrados.

"Bind!" Dean called out.

Gyrados moved with blinding speed and grabbed Lapras before it had a chance to escape. It wrapped itself around Lapras like a giant python. Lapras struggled weakly in the grip, but could not move. There was a sickening crunch as its coral saddle broke, the pieces falling into the water with a cheerful _plunk_. Lapras screamed until its voice gave out, and its body went limp.

"Aaannd Lapras has fainted!" The announcer warbled.

Sam rolled his eyes at the comment as he sent Lapras back to its ball. Looking down briefly at his roster, he already knew which one to send out next. It revealed itself with a magnified bleat. It was Ampharus, a midsized creature with a yellow hide and a long neck. The bead-like ball on the end of its tail glowed in response to Gyrados's brutish cries. Ampharus was small next to Gyrados and it looked frail as it made another odd bleat.

At a command from Dean, Gyrados charged. Water sprayed outwards as Gyrados crashed forwards, but Ampharus dodged. It struggled to get out of the way and managed to find a slab of rock to stand on. Even though the heat from Charizard had made a great deal of water evaporate, there was still enough that Gyrados could move unhindered. The announcers were prattling on, but Sam tuned them out, calling out an order. Ampharus crackled in response, sparks dancing around its body as the ball on its tail glowed brightly. As soon as sparks hit the water, Gyrados growled apprehensively. The water began to sizzle and once again steam rose. The air smelled of metal and began to buzz.

Gyrados suddenly lunged, jaws distended. Ampharus leaped as soon as the water dragon crashed into the slab, sending it scattering. Ampharus landed onto Gyrados's face, its grip tight around one of the creature's fangs.

"Thunder!" Sam demanded.

The attack came, bright as lightening and just as fierce. Electricity swayed and danced. It licked at Gyrados's body, catching in the scales, giving them a deadly shimmer. The bolts bounded over the water, and every time Gyrados tried to move, the lightening would catch its body. Gyrados thrashed and no matter how or where it moved, it would always be shocked. Its body swelled as lightening lit up its mouth, coursing through its entire body, shooting inside of it. Gyrados seized as the haze intensified, making it hard to see. The water was fleeing; evaporating in the extremes it was being put under. Gyrados was lifted upwards from the force of the attack, still in its grip. It roared, before suddenly crashing down, smoking and motionless. Ampharus stumbled out of its mouth; it wobbled onto its haunches, the grass squelching beneath it.

"Sam Winchester's Ampharus used Thunder!"

"Yes, its super effective!"

Dean looked down at his smoldering monster and whistled as Sam slapped a palm to his forehead.

"Damn." Dean drew out the word.

Sam gave him a twisted smile. "But it was better than the Tetris right?"

Dean laughed.

"How long do we have to keep doing this?" Sam asked. "At this rate, we'll be trapped here forever-"

"You're the one who said to play along-"

Sam cut him off. "So you don't have a plan?"

"I'm workin' on it." Dean snapped.

"Well it appears nothing is happening." A commentator suddenly cried.

"Oh shut up!" Dean yelled.

Sam sighed. "Shall we?"

"Urgh."

Dean recalled Gyrados; a flash of light later and another creature appeared. It was equal in size to Ampharus, but its body was green and it looked much fiercer. It had curving blades in place of arms and hands, its hind legs had thick wicked claws, and it crouched forward as if eager for a fight. Small translucent wings buzzed quickly together. Dean looked down at the stats.

"Scyther huh?" Dean turned to his creature. "Cut!"

With a screech Scyther raced forward, more graceful that imagined. Ampharus barely had time to dodge and it shot out a small lightning bolt, which missed and hit the soggy ground with a sizzle. Ampharus cried out, getting slashed repeatedly. Its next bolt hit Scyther, but didn't do much damage. Scyther screeched again, miniscule teeth flashing. It shot through, blades whirring. Scyther tackled Ampharus, blindly bringing its blades downwards. Ampharus rolled out from under Scyther, bleating in alarm.

With a sudden flash, Sam recalled Ampharus and looked for a replacement as the crowd screamed.

"Ready to give up?" Dean asked.

"You wish!" Sam called back. He threw the ball. "I choose you, Espeon!"

The creature came out with a flash. It was four-legged and lilac furred. Its size was somewhere in between house cat and leopard, but what made it stand out was its two pronged tail. Scyther rasped in aggression, but Espeon stared impassively at the other creature. Both beasts looked ready to tear into each other.

"Go!" shouted Dean.

Scyther moved again, blades extended. Espeon stood its ground, but Scyther veered sharply, blade singing. Espeon dodged, hissing angrily.

"Mirage!" Dean called.

Suddenly, Scyther was a blur, racing in circles around Espeon. Then there were ten Scythers', each one vicious as their blades descended. The purple beast ducked low, eyes flashing.

"Psychic!" Sam countered.

The air suddenly rippled, and the jewel set on Espeon's forehead began to glow. The Scyther figures vanished, as if they had never existed, and left the original standing. Its thick green feet rose from the ground, and it began to hover. Scyther squirmed in agitation, unable to control its movements. Scyther was swiftly yanked backwards, as if shoved by a giant. It sailed across the field before slamming to a stop at Dean's ramp. The small metal box rattled at the impact and Dean looked at Espeon to Sam and back again.

"Figures." He muttered.

Something caught his eyes, and he looked into the crowd. He ignored the field and the two creatures eying each other warily. Sam frowned, following Dean's line of sight, but he couldn't tell what his brother was looking at. Dean grabbed a poke ball from his tray and in one blurred motion, threw it. Charizard appeared. The crowd gasped in shock. The commentators were all shouting in unison, unable to contain themselves as the stripe shirted men frantically blew whistles. Dean paid them no attention as he commanded Charizard. The beast roared, flying straight into the audience, shooting fire at them. People scrambled to get out of the way, screaming in terror.

"Woah! Easy there, tiger."

Sam blinked. The Trickster stood in the middle of the field, hands raised in a surrender gesture. The amused smirk on his face suggested otherwise.

"Enough." Dean said. "We get it."

"…Get what?"

Sam dropped off his podium to join his brother, who confronted the Trickster.

"You want us to play along, to what the game tells us to." Sam supplied.

"Warmer." Trickster looked considering.

Dean was incredulous. "Warmer?!"

Trickster gave him a look suggesting this obvious. "Duh. This is only the half of it. You gotta play the game outside."

Sam was more than annoyed. "Life is just a game to you?"

Trickster shrugged. "If the shoe fits."

"You know what, screw this." Dean snapped. "I know one of those winged dicks put you up to this."

The Trickster snorted. "Please. Those jag-offs don't boss me around. Trust me, I wouldn't hang around with those losers-"

Dean continued. "I don't know which dick you're working for and I don't care. It's pretty pathetic to be an angel's bitch."

"Speaking from experience?" The Trickster asked cheerfully.

"You won't help us." Dean didn't sound surprised. "I bet you won't even lift a finger to stop em' or give a damn, you selfish gutless bastard." Dean was on a roll. "You'll just let them do whatever they want. Be a slave to a bunch of soulless douchebags that want the world to burn-"

Sam suddenly felt the air change and gritted his teeth. In one motion, the Trickster grabbed Dean by the collar of his jacket and lifted him up from the ground. Dean struggled, his feet skimming the grass. There was a buzzing in Sam's ears, and it took him a moment to realize it was silent. The stadium was empty, but Sam was frozen, watching the Trickster, was looking as angry as Sam had ever seen him, almost murderous. His eyes full of thunder, and Sam shivered suddenly; he didn't like the expression one bit. It somehow seemed familiar.

"You don't know anything about me." He rasped at Dean, livid. "So why don't you be a good little vessel and _shut up_, you smug little-"

Suddenly, the Trickster's grip slackened and Dean was dropped none too gently onto the ground. Dean scrambled up quickly, rubbing his neck. He stared warily, but before he could say anything, Sam made it to his side. They watched the Trickster carefully. The other man wasn't looking or even paying attention to them anymore. His eyes were wide, staring at something only he could see. He looked shocked, even horrified. He had gone completely rigid, and he spoke softly to himself and somehow that put Sam on edge even more.

"Son of a bitch."

He sounded incredulous, which seemed out of character, but before Sam could figure anything out; the Trickster gave a vague finger snap in their direction before disappearing.

Sam blinked. He turned wildly around; they were no longer in a stadium, but what looked like the inside of a warehouse. It smelled faintly of burnt sugar.

"Holy crap." Dean suddenly said. "What was that all about and where are we?"

"Dunno, but I think we're back in reality."

"How'd you figure?"

"Just a guess."

"Didn't he seem strange though?" Dean elaborated at Sam's look. "I'm mean with the angel thing? I didn't even say a name and the guy lost it."

"He knew them." Sam stated.

Sam had a sudden thought. He knew why the Trickster lost his temper; he remembered the expression.

"Hang on."

SPNTMI

Castiel gripped his blade tighter as the hideous creature charged. He could hear the shouting, as the younger warrior was surrounded. Castiel was filled with dread. The air crackled, and _grace_ rippled with force. It was not his own, and it belonged to a powerful individual; Castiel's eyes widened as he heard the wing beats.

A man with semi-slicked back blonde hair appeared. There was no smile on his face; he was watching the monsters with disgust. His grace radiated violence and Castiel shivered. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Alec looking fearful. Castiel could hardly blame him; he looked at the man in shock.

"Y-you are-"

"Get out of here."

His voice was firm and uncompromising. There was something dark in his eyes; there was a tremor from the ground, and Castiel felt himself moving backwards, hastening to obey. Only one thing was keeping him from doing so.

"Look Tweedledee and Tweedledum are ok. They're a couple of warehouses down."

The stranger turned to Castiel and gave him a brief and alarming smile.

"Get out of here." He said again. "I'll handle this."

Castiel had no doubt that he could. He nodded and grabbed Alec as the creatures rushed the stranger. Castiel looked on as the man brushed aside the two smaller ones and destroyed them with ease. The last large one bellowed, wheeling away and the man gave chase. Castiel gripped Alec's arm, and spread his wings. He could feel the weight of Alec clutched tight against him. Castiel sped faster; the knowledge of where Sam and Dean were was firm as a stone in his mind. They landed easily and Alec swayed unsteadily. He clutched at Castiel briefly to regain his balance, flushing with embarrassment. He straightened up and looked at their surroundings. The abandoned warehouses smelled of burnt sugar; a loud bang made them turn around to see two familiar figures. They raced to catch up to them, Alec calling out.

"Sam! Dean!" Alec shouted.

They hurried and made a sharp turn to each other. Castiel could sense the same grace around them that he had encountered moments before. His foreboding increased. He heard Alec rapidly fill them in before Sam and Dean could speak.

"That demon was headed in the direction of Magnus's." his voice was wire thin.

Sam quickly rattled off their encounter as they hurried to leave. Dean finally cut in.

"We don't think he's a Trickster."

"That's because he isn't."

SPNTMI

By the time they got to Magnus's, they could see smoke rising. Alec raced ahead, his blade already out and gleaming. Sam, Dean, and Castiel hot on his heels.

"Magnus!" he shouted.

Magnus's back was to them, and he was standing right next to the Trickster. At the sound of his name, Magnus turned to look at the four who had gotten to his side easily. They all stared at one another; the smoldering pile was the demon and the smoke spiraled up briefly before the creature disappeared.

"Oi, Trickster." Dean called.

Magnus looked briefly nonplussed as the Trickster perked up. He didn't have time to react as he was suddenly splashed with liquid.

"Gah!"

"You know what this is?" Dean held up an ancient looking jug. "It's holy oil."

"…Oookay, and?"

Sam was beginning to look aggrieved, but Dean struck a match. The Trickster watched curiously, as Alec and Castiel anxiously watched. Magnus was looking on with interest and he moved slightly forward.

"Don't bother lying." Dean held up the match. "You're an angel."

The response was immediate; Alec was shocked, but Magnus stared with a considering look as Castiel watched unsurprised. The Trickster was incredulous.

"An angel?!" he laughed. "Was mommy not around to tell you drugs are bad?"

Dean flicked the match and the Trickster hurried to get out of its path. It was a dead giveaway, and Trickster realized it. He looked like he was having trouble preventing himself from cursing. Very reluctantly, he raised his hands; his surrender gesture sincere this time.

"Alright. Alright. Yeah. Yes, I am. Happy?" he snapped.

Sam folded his arms. "So which dick are you?"

Sam was given a lengthy stare. "_Gabriel, ok_." His voice was soft, almost vulnerable. "_They call me Gabriel._"

Sam could feel the shock on his face. "Gabriel? As in the archangel?"

"Hey."

Magnus suddenly moved to stand next to Gabriel.

"Well, that explains a lot." He mused. "At any rate, there will be no smiting in my house."

As surprised as Sam and Dean were, it was Alec who spoke next; he looked from Gabriel to Magnus. He seemed oddly hurt.

"Wait, do you two know each other?"

Gabriel smirked at Alec. "We go way back."

"That needs some explaining." Dean muttered sarcastically.

"So do you." Magnus countered.

"I think we all do." Sam said.

Alec shot him a grateful look.

"Starting with you." Dean addressed Gabriel. "Like why aren't you loyal to your psycho brothers?"

"Watch your mouth." Gabriel said. "I love my brothers-_love _them. Things change. Before Armageddon, which I call another day at the office." His face screwed up in derisive thought. "Or maybe a family reunion. Its' pretty typical of them to pick a fight, but I wasn't interested." His voice slipped into some dark register. "Watching them rip each other to pieces, trying to kill each other? It was unbearable. I couldn't stop them, and I wasn't going to hang around to watch." He glared at Sam and Dean. "I thought you two could relate. It was why I kept such a close eye on you guys." Gabriel threw up his hands. "But hey, whatever; they want to kill each other? Fine, not my problem."

He faced his fascinated, but unwilling audience. Gabriel didn't seem to care who heard him. It was silent, but then Magnus broke the silence.

"The apocalypse? Truly?" he asked.

Gabriel looked at Magnus. "Yup. The end is nigh, just sit back and pop some corn."

Only Magnus was the only one who didn't look affronted. Sam quickly spoke up.

"We can stop it." He urged.

The look Gabriel gave him was almost pitying.

"No one can stop it. Come on, I can't be the only one who just wants to get this over with." a look of weariness was there for a split second be he shrugged. "This planet is boring anyway."

Dean angrily replied. "So this isn't about destiny for you, it's because you're too scared to face your family!" he was close to shouting.

"Standing…standing up to family is hard." Alec said unexpectedly.

Everyone rounded on him. Alec flushed with mortification at their scrutiny. He rubbed the back of his neck and kept his eyes downward. Alec stood rigidly, and avoided Magnus, who was staring at him with an inexplicably sad expression. Magnus turned back to Gabriel.

"How about a compromise." He offered. "You know something. Just tell them, and you don't have to help any more than that." Magnus silenced any protests with a look. "It's up to you, but please Loki."

Magnus locked eyes with Gabriel, and for a few moments they simply stared at each other. Whatever was being shared between them was lost on everyone else. To everyone, except for maybe Magnus, Gabriel nodded.

"Yeah, alright."

Magnus led them into his loft, pulling out a slim pink phone.

"Calling another powwow?" Sam asked.

"Yes."

"Where is my sister?" Alec suddenly asked sharply. "We got separated, and I want to know what's happened to her." His question was directed at Gabriel.

Many eyes turned accusingly in the archangel's direction, but he was unperturbed.

"Relax, she's probably fine." He sounded amused.

"She better be." Alec warned.

"Hopefully she's in a better place than we were." Dean said.

Alec looked alarmed, and Sam shot his brother a dark look. Dean didn't notice; he was still glaring at Gabriel.

"What the hell was that?" Dean growled. "Sending us through a bunch of videogames?"

"Wasn't Princess Peach hot?" Gabriel asked, waving a hand dismissively. "Besides, it could have been worse. I could have trapped you in TV Land and made George Clooney be your boss!"

Sam rolled his eyes, feeling this might actually become the standard response from now on as he pushed Dean forward. Inside, they could see Jace sprawled on the couch, eyes reflecting flickers from the TV.

"Powwow time!" Magnus trilled.

Jace gave the warlock an insolent glare as he hauled himself up into a sitting position. It didn't take long for the loft to fill up again as Clary and Isabelle walked in, with Jo close behind them. The three girls were the only ones that needed to be called. Alec strode over to Isabelle; his worry was evident, but Isabelle was somehow sheepish.

"What happened?" his voice sharp with a typical older brother worry.

Isabelle sighed. "Honestly. I can take care of myself. No, nothing. I thought that when the mannequins came to life, that they were going to attack me." Her tone had an odd mixture of flippancy and embarrassment. "But then the wolf-man gave me a lap dance."

Jace gave a surprised bark of laughter, only stopped when Isabelle threatened violence. Magnus conjured the same table set as he did before, and Gabriel gave himself a lollipop, as coffee appeared beside each seat. Chairs scraped against the floor, and the girls and Jace were treated to a recap of events. Someone made the statement that everyone needed to be more forthcoming.

"So if something jumps out at you," Alec trailed off. "Er…just ask."

"Awkward." Dean muttered.

Jace inclined his head as Magnus pretended to study his nails.

"Well…Valentine is trying to do…something." Clary felt lame for speaking.

"Something?" Jace repeated voice caustic.

"I'm assuming this Valentine is a person and not a holiday?" Gabriel asked. "Who is he and why should I care?"

"Valentine was a Shadowhunter, touted as one of the greatest of all by his people." Magnus said. "He gained a following, their number calling themselves the Circle. He meant to change-"

Jace suddenly cut him off, voice full of poison. "This is what he tried to do fifteen years ago. He instigated a rebellion, that was going to overthrow the Clave, but he failed. That hasn't stopped him. He faked his death so he could keep trying without getting caught." Jace stopped, unable to continue.

Alec and Isabelle exchanged worried glances, while Clary studied the knots in the table.

"The Clave?" Jo asked.

"How'd he fail?" Sam wondered.

Their questions were asked in unison. Alec took over and when he spoke, he gave the air of a professor giving a lecture.

"The Clave is our system of government and its set of rules imposed and protected by the Inquisitor, who in turn, is supervised by the Consul, who interprets the law and advises the council and the Inquisitor." He almost looked weary of giving this information to the hunters.

"Laws?" Jo asked.

"Yes." He said crisply. "We have them to maintain order and our Institutes. It keeps everything running smoothly." He paused briefly. "It's all to protect Idris, our home country, which incidentally, no mundanes are allowed to enter." He looked sternly at the hunters, as if to discourage any desire to go there.

Magnus replied to Sam's question.

"Fifteen years ago, Valentine was planning to overthrow the Clave. This was because they were about to sign a treaty with the Downworlders, and try to prevent wars from breaking out. Before this could happen, Valentine's wife Jocelyn had went to the Clave and warned them about what was to happen. The Shadowhunters and Downworlders reluctantly joined together to stop a wholesale slaughter. When Valentine's followers got there, they were outnumbered and arrested. Only Valentine and a few others managed to escape." Magnus continued. "Valentine was thought to have burned to death in his house, but we now know that is a lie."

"Pretty intense I bet?" Dean assumed.

Magnus nodded. "It was. I was there."

"Why did they oppose the Accords?" Sam asked.

"Because it would mean peace with Downworlders, something Valentine hates." Jace scowled.

"Since Valentine isn't the Clave, he doesn't make the rules." Alec said. "There is still some controversy, but the Accords are updated every fifteen years."

"So if no one wants them, what's the point in having them?" Jo asked. "They don't seem to work that well."

Clary, at least knew what she was talking about, and she was probably sure that everyone else did to. If Jo realized that she had said something potentially offensive, she didn't comment. It was Dean who looked thoughtful now, instead of bored. He rolled his eyes at his brother, who had been leaning forward eagerly at the history. Dean started talking.

"So if Downworlders feel like they're getting shafted, why not just team up to take you guys out?"

This made the Shadowhunters bristle, but it was almost as if they had all agreed, prior to this, not to get aggravated. Alec quickly replied.

"Because they would lose and they know it. We have Clave and Covenant. Something, I assume you hunters don't have?" the question was more like a statement.

Dean gave a wry grin. "We all play on the same team, more or less, but there's no league."

Jace smirked and he and the rest of the Shadowhunters shared a look, as if to say _'That explains a lot.'_

Gabriel raised a hand. "I still don't know why I should care."

"Because." Castiel put it, with a touch of impatience. "Valentine has stolen heavenly artifacts' specifically, the Mortal Cup and the Soul-Sword Maellartach."

Gabriel's reaction was immediate as he dropped all his humor. He had actually gone pale.

"Maellartach?! The Maellartach?!"

"It would appear so." Castiel intoned.

"Holy crap!" Gabriel yelped.

"Er…yes. Yes, I had a similar thought myself."

Sam looked grim. "It also sounds like Valentine is working with Lucifer."

Gabriel snorted, but not with disbelief, and Alec and Magnus were alarmed as their companions looked at them in confusion. The Shadowhunters looked disbelieving on top of everything. Clary had a sudden flash of memory, but Jace made an inelegant sound that made her look in his direction. It didn't stop Clary from shivering, and Gabriel was staring at Sam and Dean with undisguised shock.

"Amazing. What is it with you two knuckleheads, huh? You are so boned, even more boned than you were before, which is really saying something."

"Pray tell, why would that be?" Jace drawled unexpectedly.

Gabriel regarded Jace, and there was something almost patronizing, but it went away quickly. He closed his eyes and seemed to be gathering himself. When he opened his eyes, there was some sort of faraway look in them.

"Well fine." He sighed. "It's' because it's one of the most powerful weapons we've got. It's the sword given to both Michael _and_ Lucifer."

"Both?"

"Yup. It was made with the two of them in mind. Dad gave it to them and it was supposed to prove their bond as brothers. That we were all united." He gave a bitter grimace. "I can see why Lucy would want it, even if it hasn't been used in a really long time."

They all stared at Gabriel, forcing him to continue. The archangel made a big show of having to continue.

"There wasn't always a devil, guys. We had only one enemy back in those days. The Ancients."

Jace looked thoughtful. "Are you referring to demons?"

"Huh? So that's what you call them." Gabriel remarked.

"In all honesty, they are nothing like demons." Castiel added unhelpfully.

Gabriel continued. "Obviously not, Hell wasn't even around yet. Anyway, Ancients were the ones we fought and protected Heaven from. That's what all that smiting was originally for."

"What exactly are these ancients?" Sam asked.

"Dunno really; Dad didn't make em'." Gabriel replied.

"They don't have souls either." Castiel added. "Of that much I am certain."

"Ah." Magus replied. "Fascinating."

Castiel inclined his head. "Demons are simply souls that have been warped by living in Hell. They were human once."

As they absorbed the exchange, Alec began to speak to Sam.

"Well, what Gabriel has been calling Ancients, are things that we know about. We've called them demons out of convenience because they don't belong in this world. They are at best, inter-dimensional beings that move from world to world, draining worlds dry. Think of them as locusts, and now they have come to this world. We're the only ones who can stop them. We aren't able to attack them from wherever they come from, or prevent them from entering our plane, but we can kill them as soon as they appear."

This was met with silence as the hunters absorbed this fact. It was a good deal of information, and then it would simply become just another monster to hunt down. Jo was ready with another question.

"People don't notice them because…?"

"There are many things mundanes can't see." Jace said. "We can because of what we are, which is why we're the only ones that can fight them."

The hunters looked a bit doubtful at this, but before they could say anything, Clary unexpectedly piped up.

"Wait-if angels are the enemies of ancients, is that why seraph blades and steles' work?" she asked, already theorizing.

Castiel and Gabriel looked at her askance, and Alec pulled out a slim tube and an even slimmer wand-like object.

"She means these." Alec turned to Clary. "You're probably right, that is a plausible explanation."

"Do you think that's why people say vampires are damned?" she asked voice just small enough to cause concern.

Sam looked ready to say something, but Jace beat him to it.

"Probably. After all, he is a downworlder, so it would make sense."

Clary was crestfallen, but nodded all the same. There was still room for confusion, however, so the conversation continued.

"What do you mean?" asked Jo.

Jace gave her a slightly condescending look. "You hunt them, and you don't even know how they came about?" he sighed. "Downworlders are part demon, part human. When demons first attacked mundanes, their wounds caused strange changes in the victims. For example werewolves and vampires-"

"Are infections." Dean said.

Jace looked annoyed at the interruption, but nodded. "Warlocks are born the way they are, and faeries are the offspring of angels and demons."

This was meet was met with reactions of disgust from Gabriel and Castiel.

"Don't wanna meet the SOB who did that." Gabriel sneered.

"Wait." Jo held up a hand. "This has been bugging me for a while now. At the Dumort and then at the cemetery."

Clary listened avidly; it seemed the same thing had been bothering both of them. Now what she overheard was finally going to make sense.

"That is not how vampires turn. Or how sunlight nearly killed them and holy water worked. All that lore is crap. The only way to kill them is cut off their heads, and they can be weakened by dead mans' blood. Turning only takes a few hours, and they certainly don't need to be buried for it." She stated.

"Well your lore needs some work." Isabelle spoke up dryly.

It could have gone on for a bit more, but Gabriel and Magnus exchanged amused glances. Magnus clapped his hands for attention and Gabriel heaved a melodramatic sigh.

"Guys." He called, holding up a hand. "Two versions. Both true. Ancients screwed up a lot of things, and Downworlders are real because of them. So are what those guys-" he pointed to the hunters. "Hunt. It works both ways."

"So each set of monsters originated from different sources, which is why they are different?" Sam asked.

"Bingo."

"OK fine, but why haven't we come across em' before?" Dean asked.

Jace gave him a withering look. "We haven't heard of yours either."

Clary spoke again. "Oh I think I know this. Shadowhunters have institutes, which sound more like outposts to Idris, the home front, but institutes are only in really big cities, so Shadowhunters can take care of them. The demons, sorry, ancients can't be seen and Downworlders usually keep to themselves. Plus, Shadowhunters keep them in line."

"That," Magnus seconded, "and both sides probably aren't noticing the signs of the other, since they won't be looking for them."

"Guess that kills my apocalypse theory." Sam said.

"Ah well, it sucked anyway." Dean pointed out.

Sam rolled his eyes, but he looked speculative. "Huh. So that's why Cas took one look at the faeries and nearly hulked out." This was met with stares. "What? Dean was right; you were acting weird."

Castiel suddenly looked embarrassed. He addressed Magnus with contrition.

"I must apologize for my behavior when we first met. I had no understanding of that compulsion."

Magnus waved it away. "No worries." He jerked a thumb at Gabriel. "He was the same way when we first met."

"How did you two meet anyway?" Alec asked, somewhat peevishly.

Gabriel spared Alec only a single glance, but he and Magnus stared at each other again. They smiled as if remembering an old joke.

"Ah that." Magnus said softly, unable to stifle a grin.

"That." Gabriel pretended to be thoughtful. "That is a long, boring story that requires no elaboration what so ever."

This weirded the others out, which was probably Magnus and Gabriel's intention all along.

"Alec." Castiel spoke. "I am curious to know more about your weaponry." He stated.

Alec blinked. "Oh. Alright."

Alec pulled out a slender tube and a wand-like instrument. He pointed to the latter first.

"We call this a _stele_. They write out the runes we use."

"The language I saw." Castiel stated. "It is similar to Enochian."

"The language of Heaven?" Alec asked.

"Yes. We have spoken and written it since the beginning."

"Fascinating." Alec breathed. "We use our runes for just about anything, and they leave these."

Alec held up his arm. The hunters had to squint to see anything definite, but Castiel could see them clearly. They were scars, white and thin, crisscrossing over each other many times over. They had the same shape and lines as some of the runes Castiel had already seen before. He could still faintly read what they used to say. It wasn't the scars, however, that got the hunters attention; they had some of their own. No, it was the thick lines that look painted on the skin. Swirling, and complex patterns that looked weaved onto the skin, like they had been etched in ink. Castiel read them; each one had a specific purpose, promising balance and speed. Castiel let his hands grip Sam and Dean's arms, and managed to brush his fingers against Jo's sleeve. It gave the three a better glimpse at what they were seeing, and they peered at the lines.

Jace looked on with amused disdain at their scrutiny, Isabelle bored, and Alec faintly embarrassed. Clary couldn't blame them; no one liked being gawked at, but at the same time, she remembered how it felt when she first met the Lightwoods and just how fascinated she was at the inky black runes that contrasted so sharply with Jace's golden skin…

"Only Shadowhunters can wear these. Mundanes simply can't handle getting marks, and if they do, they lose their minds and become monsters, or what we call Forsaken. On us, they simply leave scars; our badges of honor."

Alec did indeed sound proud when he said that. He put the stele down and held up the slender tube. It was a pale grey color and looked cool to the touch.

"This is a seraph blade. Their power is drawn from the invocation of an angelic name. We name them, and they are the only things that can kill demons."

Castiel was absorbing this. "I find this all strange. I can feel an energy about all of you, and your instruments. When you used your seraph blade I felt it; they do seem to be alive somehow, but you have no grace yourself so-"

Gabriel groaned. "Oh come on, can't you tell bro'? They're Nephilim."

Castiel nodded, but still looked shocked. "I had a theory, but I'm still not sure how it is possible."

"After everything we've seen?" Dean asked.

"Hey I don't know how it happened either." Gabriel defended his brother. "It was like one day, poof here they are."

"I'm a little surprised you don't know this." Magnus mused, mostly to himself.

"I haven't been upstairs in a long time. Extended vacation." Gabriel reminded him.

"Point taken." Magnus conceded. "Well according to legend, one thousand years ago a man named Jonathan Shadowhunter had summoned the Angel Raziel and asked for his aid."

Dean snorted. The Shadowhunters shot him dark looks, but he did nothing to apologize. Sam elbowed him and Magnus continued.

"Legend varies on how he had done so, or who was with him when he had done this, but all sources agree that Raziel did appear before him. He told the Angel of mankind's plight and his desire to lessen it. The Angel gave him a cup, mixing his own blood with that of Jonathan Shadowhunter, and Raziel gave it to him to drink."

Sam and Dean looked disgusted at this, with Sam quickly looking away. Clary couldn't blame them; she didn't really want to think about blood anytime soon. She didn't really want to see anyone's reaction right now.

"That is how Jonathan Shadowhunter became the first Shadowhunter, or rather, Nephilim. It has been passed down onto his children and their children, and so on. Nephilim consider it a sacred duty to destroy demon kind while safeguarding humankind and to keep Downworlders in line."

"So that's how they got their hands on Maellartach." Gabriel said after a length.

He said Maellartach with an odd inflection, like the leftovers of some out of place accent.

"Did you ever know Raziel?" Magnus asked.

"Hmm?" Gabriel snapped back to attention. "Not personally no. Although that explains a lot; if that happened just one thousand years ago, it makes sense that no one really heard of Nephilim."

"Let me guess." Dean said. "'God has left the building.'" He quoted.

Gabriel's eyes darkened, but he didn't comment.

"It wouldn't surprise me if senior management wanted to keep them hushed up." He said.

His words were said lightly enough, but there was something ominous about the words themselves and the Shadowhunters kept glancing at each other. Jace in particular was regarding this with sharp eyes. Gabriel seemed to remember something and spoke again.

"So Maellartach. If my brothers, either of them, get a hold of this thing, its game over."

"Right." Jace said. "About that, why should we be so certain about the devil getting a hold of the Soul-Sword? Last time I checked, Valentine is the one who stole it."

Gabriel met Jace's gold gaze with a clinical stare. Jace clenched his jaw at the look; it was somehow invasive, but it was over as quickly as it happened and the somewhat satisfied look was enough to make Jace want to hit him.

"Because I just took a peak in your noggin'; the person with the black eyes?" Gabriel watched Jace suppress a wince. "Yeah, that was a demon. That's what people look like when their possessed. My bro' uses em' as flunkies, so he'd know about the sword."

"So Valentine is working with the devil? Well no surprises there." Isabelle huffed.

"The devil-Lucifer is really real?" Clary finally asked, sounding both apprehensive and skeptical.

"Yes." Sam answered. "I know it's hard to take in, but yeah it's real."

Clary stared at Sam for a moment, before leaning back in her seat.

"So all your talk about the apocalypse is because of this?" Jace asked, sharp with scrutiny. "Isn't that a bit much? The world doesn't really need Lucifer's help with that."

Dean nodded in wry agreement. "Well it's happening."

Gabriel snapped his fingers suddenly and Dean flinched, when nothing seemed to happen, he relaxed. Jace looked amused at the reaction an opened his mouth. There was a loud, obnoxious squeak, as though a brightly colored toy had been stepped on. It was the kind of sound that was usually associated with pets and small children, and it was coming from Jace. He tried to speak again and the sound came out in place of words.

Jace squeaked several times and quite a few individuals had to suppress sniggers. Jace went a bit pink, but accepted it with grace; he squeaked out a few replies that probably needed no translation.

Isabelle turned to Gabriel. "What does that prove?" she sound both amused and exasperated.

"Nothing." Gabriel said airily.

Jace squeaked out something. His expression was deadly serious, which was at horrendous odds with the cartoony sounds.

"Sorry what was that?"

"Oh just change him back already!' Isabelle snapped.

"-I said how does Lucifer affect the apocalypse?" Jace rasped.

"He will fight his brother Michael on the battlefield to catastrophic effect." Castiel's voice was scraping with grave fact.

"The battlefield being Earth," Dean supplied. "Their showdown will roast the planet and they don't care who gets in the way."

Jace's face twisted in bitterness. "So you think the devil's going to win." It was a statement.

"Not if we can help it." Sam's voice was filled with determination.

Clary wasn't sure who Sam was reminding her of at that moment, but she felt an odd thrill go through her; this was real, really real. A gut feeling like this couldn't be ignored, but she did have one question which surprised her with its intensity.

"Why does it have to be you guys?" she asked. "It's not like Nephilim; you don't have to do this."

"Yes we do." Dean replied.

"Besides," Sam started.

Clary's gut feeling intensified; she felt like she was about to know some horrible secret. Almost like knowing the rug was about to be pulled out from under your feet in the micro-second before it happened. She wasn't sure how much more weirdness she could take in today, or her life. Just how much could she handle before she exploded from the strangeness. Clary grabbed her forearm, rubbing the blackened mark for reassurance. Sam started speaking again.

"Besides, it's because we started it." His voice was shaking. "It's our fault, we started the apocalypse. Releasing Lucifer from his prison triggered it. I'm not proud of what I did and maybe it's arrogant to think we can take it back, but it's better than sitting back and watching the world burn."

Clary shivered at the intensity and she thought she could taste his guilt. She could tell that's what it was; it was obvious. Clary could understand all of it; something about the pain, the way it charged the air made her almost want to step back and stay far away from them. Clary twisted her ankles around her chair to keep herself from actually doing so. She pressed her hand harder to her forearm. Clary stole peeks at the others; to say they looked uncomfortable would be an understatement, but she assumed they all felt the same. The oppressive atmosphere made everything go silent and she saw Jace give the two men an expression she couldn't really decipher, but somehow similar to Deans'.

Clary looked at Dean, who was boldly looking at them, as if daring the other. Clary had a flash of insight; he was protecting his brother, as good as a physical shield, and then another insight came to her. They would not go into the details, not even if they were begged.

Gabriel's chair scraped abrasively as he abruptly stood up. Everyone jumped; he moved to the door.

"Wait!"

He turned expectantly.

"You're an angel!" Alec blurted out.

"Umm duh."

"So you could help." Clary nodded rapidly. "Just go back and ask for reinforcements or something."

"Not happening." Dean said.

Clary wondered if her shock was visible.

"They knew the danger of Lucifer breaking free of his prison and they did nothing." Castiel said.

"Means' they wanted this to happen." Dean said, anger making his voice shake.

Jace looked at Dean, and he could almost feel the irony spreading on his face. Somehow he could not muster any effort to feel surprised. He suddenly remembered the night Clary asked him if he believed in God. Jace failed to suppress derisive laughter; did this mean that he should repent? He resisted the bizarre, out of place urge to sympathize with Dean.

Jace turned to look at Gabriel, almost in a last ditch effort for assurance. The archangel made a shrugging motion, as if to say _'hey, what are you gonna do?'_ Jace felt he disgust rise in his chest.

"Pretty much." said Gabriel.

"So you could-" Alec called out. "We could-"

Jace could see the shock on Alec's face; he knew his foster brother thought Gabriel's reaction was a slap in the face, and suddenly Jace was angry on Alec's behalf.

"Look." Gabriel cut Alec off. "I don't put too much stock in some bright eyed brats from the big apple. Even if they know a friend." He inclined his head to Magnus.

Sam watched the exchange with an odd tight feeling in his gut. Asking Gabriel was pointless, and it took him a moment to realize that he somehow had gotten his hopes up. Gabriel listened to them, even been congenial in his own twisted way, but Sam remembered when he lost his temper and that was sleeping beneath the archangel. Sam blinked in response to a sharp pang inside him.

Dean was looking at Gabriel with a mixture of anger and disgust. "You're an asshole you know that?"

Gabriel gave him a smug smile. "It's so flattering that you'd notice."

The temperature changed suddenly, and Sam thought back on Alec's words; conversations jumbling up and together.

"_Standing up to family is hard."_

"_C'ome on, am I the only one who wants to be over?"_

"_Why does it have to be you guys?"_

It was more than sadness, less than understanding, and something different from pity. He didn't know what it was, only that it was giving him a headache to try and figure it out. Sam had no idea what the look on his face was, or why that seemed to matter, but before he knew it, or could help it, he voiced his question to Gabriel.

"What happened to you up there?"

Was it horror or fascination in his voice? Gabriel blinked, almost with shock, as though he had never been asked that before. Something flashed behind his eyes before being replaced with a very obvious anger.

"None of your damn business."

Sam was taken aback by the vehemence of the response.

"Screw this noise."

Gabriel disappeared. They stared at the spot where he had been just a second before. Magnus grimaced, suddenly looking ancient. The silence weighed down like humidity. Clary watched Sam and Dean look at each other as if they might be gathering themselves and brushing dust from their clothes. Dean gave Sam an _'I told you so'_ look, which Sam replied with a weary shrug. There was something in Sam's eyes that confused her, but she brushed it aside. She could see Castiel was staring at the bare spot with sadness.

Almost as if Clary couldn't help it, her eyes invariably drew her to Jace. His expression was intense and closed off, as if lost in thought. He seemed to sense her staring and looked straight back at her, suddenly boring into her. Clary turned away as if burned. She didn't see his flinch of pain or his aggrieved expression.

"Well," he said. "Who's up for Parcheesi?"

His light, but forced tone snapped everyone out of it, and they sat back into their chairs, almost like puppets.

"So if we wanna take down Lucifer, we gotta get the sword." Jo hedged.

"Seems like it." Sam replied.

"How do you intend to do that?" asked Jace. "Just shoot him?" his voice as filled with sarcasm.

"Yeah actually." Dean snapped. "Got any bright ideas chuckles?"

Jace sneered, but before he could reply, Magnus held up a hand. Clary was relieved; it stopped the beginnings of an argument.

"Enough."

"Magnus is right. If it really is a case of Valentine working with the Devil, then we need to take this seriously." Alec pointed out.

"How?" Isabelle asked. "How can it be done?" there was a briskness in her tone, all business mode.

"Stopping Valentine first right?" asked Clary.

"Where is this Valentine?" Castiel asked.

"We don't know." Magnus said. "I've used a tracking spell, but so far nothing."

"Everything hinges on the conversion ritual…" Clary mused. "So what can we do to stop him from murdering people?"

"Well, its kids' right?" Jo asked. "Downworlder children."  
" Technically, anyone who is below the age of eighteen so yes." Isabelle replied.

"Well I doubt a curfew would work." Jace pointed out.

"Yeah." Dean agreed readily. "It'd be too easy to ignore."

"Actually, it's not a bad idea." Alec said.

Jace turned to look at him. "How? By locking them in their rooms?"

Alec was aggrieved, but before he could reply, Jo beat him with to the punch.

"How about making up a list of who the targets could be?" she suggested.

"That'll take a while." Isabelle said, looking doubtful. "A list of all the Downworlder minors in New York City?"

"Valentine will kill them before that happens." Jace said.

"Oh come on, it's not like he's going to drive out to Yonkers to pick someone." Clary snapped.

"It does seem to be difficult," Alec said, but he continued at Clary's look. "But it's better than nothing."

"Plus its' only vampires and werewolves." Jo said.

Jace snorted at that, but agreed all the same.

"I'll talk to Luke." Clary quickly explained who that was. "Then he can talk to the Lightwoods'."

"We can tell Mom about it when we get back." Isabelle said, voice delicate, as though she was trying very hard not to crush something underfoot. She gave Jace a brief smile. "She can talk to Raphael."

"Question." Jace raised a finger. "Just what do you plan on telling Maryse? The whole truth? Because, no offense, but it's a bit much to swallow, even for us."

Dean shrugged. "None taken."

"He does have a point." Alec said.

"Just say the list idea." Clary insisted. "We'll worry about the rest later."

"So, we're really doing this? Working together I mean?" Jo asked.

Jace waved a hand as if to say _'sure why not'_, and there were some terse nods; Magnus gave a half-smile, which spoke for him. Jo visibly relaxed, and Dean looked ready to tease her for it. Jo gestured for a cell phone and Sam handed his over. Jo stood up and walked away from the table, quickly dialing. Sam was looking toward her, while Dean studiously ignored Jace and his Lightwood siblings, who began to speak in low tones that were clearly not meant for Dean's ears.

"Is this a good idea?" Alec asked. "Allying ourselves with mundanes?"

Isabelle was impatient. "Why not?"

Jace sighed. "You saw their trunk. They have weapons, so I think they figure they might know what they're doing. Crazy as he-"

Alec furiously interrupted him. "Exactly! Mundane weapons, which won't do much good against a demon, let alone Valentine!"

"Then why didn't you speak up before?" Jace asked.

Alec, to his credit, colored slightly. "Because I didn't want to be insulting."

Isabelle asked again. "Why not? This could be helpful."

"Because it sounds as if they don't have any rules. You heard him, 'no league'."

"That might be a good thing." Jace spoke up, voice strange.

Alec was almost aghast, but there was a look of understanding in his eyes. Isabelle had a look of almost pity, but there was something fierce about her gaze. They looked like a family.

"Jace." Alec began.

"Not having to deal with…" Jace was unable to voice the rest of his thoughts as his eyes darkened.

"Jace." Alec stated, simply to say the name.

"Don't." Jace said. "Besides,"

Not it was Alec's turn to cut him off. "They could get seriously hurt, and besides," he put quotations on 'besides'. "You told me about what happened in the Faerie Court. Imagine what disaster could have occurred if Dean _had _pulled the trigger. Jace, the rules are there for a reason. Just because there is one unpleasant person doesn't mean that the whole-"

"Enough." Jace snapped. "I understand what you're telling me."

Jace stared fiercely back at Alec, who did not shy away. Alec was almost pleading with his gaze, but something in the way Jace sat prevented either sibling from touching him, or moving any closer. Jace's face was cooling into a hard mask and his gold eyes turned inward, which made Alec look all the sadder. He flicked his eyes to Isabelle, knowing they needed to change the subject.

"Either way." Isabelle said. "Their idea about the lists is worth trying."

"What will we tell mom?"

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "That it was our idea of course."

Jace snorted. "I don't think she'd believe us, and I know the Inquisitor won't."

Before either could reply, Jo snapped the phone shut with an audible click. She handed the phone back to Sam, and then addressed the group.

"That was my mom. She'll be here by tomorrow at the latest." Jo stated. "She also said that Bobby will be on standby and he's been trying to get a hold of Rufus and a couple of others."

"Hunting runs in the family huh?" Jace inquired with a slight leer.

Jo gave him a tight smile. "You'd be surprised."

At the same time, Alec and Sam began to speak. Sam waved away Alec's offer to let him go first. Alec cleared his throat.

"I'm not sure exactly how you plan on killing the devil."

Dean was more than willing to answer the question. He quickly stood up and went for something in his bag. He came back to the table, and set down the gun as he sat back down. Gleaming and deadly, the engraved words were like a promise.

Alec exhaled softly. "I thought you were being sarcastic."

"Nope." Dean pointed at the gun. "There's an old legend about this gun. It was made by Samuel Colt in 1835, and when it was first made, it came with thirteen bullets. This gun can kill anything."

His hand was resting next to it, but Clary had a feeling that he could bring it in his hands with just one movement. She remembered the reactions of the fey in the Seelie Court and now understood their reaction better. Maybe not all of them knew it for being something other than iron and death, but the Seelie Queen sure knew what it was.

"Well all myths are true." Jace said with a shrug.

"Yes." Magnus stepped in. "Now, I hope nobody came here just for the chest thumping." He turned to the Shadowhunters. "You may not consider it need to know, but there are quite a few who know of the Shadow World, so to speak. These aren't the only hunters out there." Magnus turned to the hunters. "Humility isn't a strong suit of the Nephilim. Although I doubt that it is yours either."

"Fair enough." Sam replied.

Jace shrugged with insolence, as if he didn't deny the statement, but his eyes were penetrating and unafraid to meet Dean's eyes. There was a challenge in the younger man's eyes; the gold was bright and hard. Dean didn't look amused, but he didn't look particularly upset either. He seemed to be resigned to the scrutiny, and he continued to evaluate with his green eyes. Alec looked at them with a thoughtful, if grim expression. Isabelle only glanced at their contest and she instead looked at Jo. She tilted her chin imperiously, but there was curiosity in her expression. Out of all of them, she studied Jo the most. As a fellow female who was surrounded by men, it made Isabelle curious as to what the hunter could do. Isabelle felt she was being examined as critically as she was doing; or at the very least, meeting Isabelle's gaze with a steady one of her own. The blonde dressed more plainly Isabelle did, but she was pretty, in an unexpected way. She was curvy, but not as tall as Isabelle. Isabelle wondered if Jo made men nervous. She wondered if that was why Simon let her follow him, or if there were a deeper reason. That made her think of The Dumort, and how Jo managed to come out of there alive when Simon could not. Isabelle honestly didn't know Jo's skill level, and that bothered her; did being the only female in a field dominated by men mean that they had something in common?

Castiel seemed confused with by all the confrontation that was going around the room. He glanced at Dean, and then met the eyes of Clary, who had been staring at Jace. When she tore her gaze away from Jace, she looked at Castiel and the two stared at one another. Clary gave him a tight smile and Castiel was curious about the oddness of her expression, and he could sense something about her was different from her fellow Nephilim. He tilted his head in puzzlement; Clary almost giggled at the mannerism, but she seemed to sense someone else looking at her. It was Jace, and Clary flushed, lowering her eyes to the table. Jace swiveled his head, and Clary avoided his gaze.

Annoyed at the end of the staring contests, Jace scowled, and Sam elbowed his brother in exasperation. Jo and Isabelle leaned back in their seats and waited for whatever was coming next. Clary broke the spell by speaking.

"Well, I'm going to tell Luke about this. I'll help him make the list; he'll call the Institute soon and work it out."

Isabelle looked at her. "Well I guess that's my cue to go too."

They broke up their meeting rather quickly, chairs scraping as people tried to keep out of each other's way. Clary left with Isabelle, not glancing back at anyone, least of all Jace. Alec quickly strode forward to follow them, evading Magnus's outstretched hand. He murmured something to his sister, too low for Clary to hear, but she moved quickly out of the way, feeling Jace's eyes on her the entire way.

SPNTMI

Clary hurried out as soon as she could down to the subway. Clary's mind was racing with all that had been said and what was still a mystery. She really hoped Luke was home, because she was bursting with the knowledge she carried.

Clary moved through familiar streets, heart pounding. Seeing Luke's place, she took the steps two at a time and Clary felt her hands struggle with the door knob.

"Hello?" Anyone home?" she called.

"In here."

Clary walked into the small kitchen. Luke was sitting beside the small circular table, a cup of coffee held in between his hands. He looked tired and worn, and there was stubble that Clary was sure hadn't been there yesterday. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, and there was weariness in his being, but when he saw Clary he smiled, and it made his expression all better.

Luke was not alone in the kitchen. Leaning against the counter with dark, watchful eyes was Simon. He didn't look particularly happy either, but that cleared slightly when he saw her. Clary shivered; she used to be able to read Simon, but now she just couldn't anymore. Was it his vampirism? He seemed so different now, and Clary missed him with a fierce ache that was startling in its intensity, and Clary mentally shook herself, trying to dislodge the feeling. Simon was still in one piece and standing right there.

"Hey."

"Hi." He finally gave her a smile.

She wanted to ask him how he was getting on, but that seemed stupid. She hadn't seen him since the night he had turned and Luke had driven him home. Clary and Jace were with them and she cried the whole way there, unable to draw any comfort. She flinched away from Jace's touch and unwilling to bring herself to pull away. She had hurt Simon by doing that. Clary would not let anything else happen to Simon, something she should have been doing the entire time. Jace's words couldn't, shouldn't matter. For Simon the boy she…

Clary looked at the two of them, affection bursting suddenly in her chest and she just as suddenly didn't want to tell them her news. It was almost too much for her and she knew it would change everything. Both of them were looking carefully at her, and Clary wondered if she looked as grave as she felt.

"What's wrong?" Luke asked.

"You won't believe the day I've had." Clary nearly babbled. "Like, really. People say that, but now I know what they mean."

Clary went up to the cupboard to get a glass and filled it with water. She took a sip before speaking. She told them what happened that day, starting with the call everyone got about the Pandemonium, meeting another angel, the reveal of the apocalypse, the story of demons and the sword, and Valentine's supposed partnership with the devil. Everything that had been exchanged at Magnus's place and Clary even backtracked to a few days prior, just to cover all her bases.

When she was finally finished, there was a shocked silence. Luke and Simon had matching expressions of incredulity and maybe just a trace of fear. Clary was amazed at herself when she shrugged in response.

"I know right? But I think it's the truth."

"Wow." Simon breathed. "That's a lot to take in."

"Yeah." Clary nodded.

"Well." Luke paused, shaking his head. "One thing at a time. Drawing up a list of downworlders will take some time, so we'll start with that. I'll call up the pack and give the list to Maryse as soon as I can, which might make it easier for her to accept."

Luke sounded as if he were holding something back.

"Why would it be easier to accept?" Simon asked probably to get to a safer topic.

Luke hesitated briefly and just gave them another comment.

"It will be difficult because the downworlders will be hard pressed to cooperate."

"Or maybe because some else had the idea." Simon muttered.

Luke looked close to agreeing as Clary shot Simon an annoyed look, but she didn't press the point as she stated loudly.

"Well why wouldn't they? We have to stop Valentine, so who cares how it gets done?"

Luke sighed warily, running a hand through his hair and suddenly he looked very old. Clary felt a twinge of regret; danger seemed to be following them wherever they went and it didn't look like it would let up any time soon. Simon looked at them both and made an odd shrugging motion.

"So…apocalypse? Is that related to Valentine, who just happened to be working with the devil? The Devil?"

Simon didn't wait for a reply. Clary had a feeling that he was more inclined to believe her than Luke.

"Just when I thought things couldn't get weirder. I just want things to be normal again."

Clary grimaced. "I don't think that'll happen soon. Weird seems to be going around." She paused. "I've been meaning to say, but I think I should get some marks. I am a Shadowhunter after all."

"What?" Simon asked, sounding shocked.

Luke looked up from his search for pencil and paper in surprise at Simon's tone. Clary wasn't quite indignant, but Simon's tone had put her on edge. Maybe it was some hidden sharpness beneath it, a sort of disturbed quality. It added to her already tight nerves, so she spoke more harshly than intended.

"Why not? I need protection, the more the better. All these things won't leave me alone if I just pretend it doesn't exist." Clary shifted, pulling out and holding up her stele. "This used to be my mother's and it the only thing that was ever really real about her and she didn't even give it to me. Luke did."

It was silent; Luke was watching them carefully, with sad cloudy eyes. Simon slumped, looking contrite.

Simon nodded. "I just thought you'd want to be normal." He whispered.

"Normal is overrated." Clary countered.

Simon looked at her in a way that suggested he would like to say something. He took a barely audible breath; Clary waited for whatever unpredictable thing he was going to say. Simon swallowed down whatever he was going to say, and replied with this instead.

"Really? I'll never have normal again. I'll even miss school."

Simon's simple reply knocked the breath out of Clary. It was all her fault.

She was aghast. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

Simon shook it off hurriedly. "I know. I know you didn't. I just-" Simon broke off, and when he was able to continue, his voice was strained. "I just don't know what to do. I have to stay indoors all the time; my mom thinks I'm sick. She keeps bringing me food, and I have to throw it away. What'll happen when she takes me to a doctor? They'll see that I don't have a heartbeat and then what? What about school or band practice, or-" he choked on his words. "I don't know what to do."

"Oh Simon." Clary breathed, unable to say anything else.

Luke stopped his search and put his hand on Simon's shoulder. Luke's hand was huge against Simon's body, making him seem smaller and much younger than he actually was. Simon looked up at Luke, eyes wide as a doe's and far darker than Clary remembered them to be. They had always been a coffee brown, a burst of color when seen up close, now they seemed even deeper and more lustrous than before.

Simon stared back at Luke; the older man's face was filled with anguish for the younger, as if remembering his own sadness. His grip on Simon looked tight, but Simon didn't protest, almost as if he wanted it. Simon seemed to crave an anchor. Luke's face was not filled with pity, but filled with understanding. There was something else, almost as if he was frightened for Simon, and what he would have to endure.

"You should tell your family." Luke quietly urged. "It'll be hard, but it's something you have to do."

"How?" Simon's voice was small, cracking under a huge weight. "I'll have to convince them vampires are real before I can say I am them." He added, "Did you? Tell your family, I mean."

Luke's grave eyes, filled with more sorrow. "In a manner of speaking, yes."

His voice held something glass-like in his voice, but it was oddly finite; supportive, but somehow the subject seemed taboo, even if he didn't want it to be that way.

"We'll come with you." Clary blurted out. "If-if you want."

Simon looked at her, his vulnerability hitting her in the face. His stunned expression took her by surprise; he looked like he did when he was small and Clary had offered to share her favorite toy when his broke.

"Really?"

She flashed back to the time when they first held hands as children. Clary suddenly felt like crying.

"Of course."

Simon stared back at her, and then suddenly ducked his head, nodding rapidly.

"Thank you."

SPNTMI

The Hunter's Moon was jammed packed that night; lycanthropes from different parts of the city came together. There was her pack of course, the ones that lived in the abandoned police station that mundanes believed to be an old Chinese take-out place. It was where they spent the nights when they didn't have to change, hanging out with the only family that they now had. That's what lycanthropes did; wherever they came from didn't matter anymore, no matter what someone's past was, they were welcome. She liked the one she had. Luke was the best leader they had so far, since pack leaders came and went, but so far Luke was her favorite. He was nice and not too handsome that she wouldn't be able to trust him, and he was steady. Whenever they had to change, roaming through the city, there was nothing to fear. Then they'd come here, to Freaky Pete's bar to drink away the pain of their transformations. She was glad she got to meet so many people; as long as you turned furry and got down on all fours once a month, you were welcome.

"Hey Maia."

Maia turned and saw Bat. He may not have been one of the overnighters, were who slept in the police station, but he was a familiar face. Bat was a tall guy, nearly over seven feet, with thick muscles all over. She remembered those muscles; once upon a time they had dated. That was all over now, but they had still managed to be friends, and wherever they went they could still turn heads.

They may have looked similar in a way; lycanthropes tended to have signs of what they were, of hard living, but other than that they were a study in contrasts. Bat was tall and buff. Maia, who was compact and curvy. Her dusky, honey colored skin was darker than his, which was barely tanned. Maia's hair was thick and curly, braided into tiny rows, whereas Bat was bald. He had multiple tattoos and piercings, but Maia had only adorned herself with homemade bands of jewelry. They both had scars, however; Bat had a large melted welt on the side of his face. He said he had gotten it from silver powder, burned into his skin from an old fight. Maia's was a long jagged cut that started at her throat and ended on her shoulder. It came from the bite that turned her into a werewolf.

"Here"

Bat was holding two tall glasses of something dark and foamy. She took one with a grin of thanks. She was just glad no one asked her to dance; she wasn't really in the mood for a rough, sweaty night.

"Crowded tonight huh?" Bat said. "Think someone will have a party after this?"

"Maybe." Maia wouldn't mind if that were true.

Maia scanned the crowd. She could see the thick toughened bodies of werewolves mingling with each other. Her girlfriends Amabel and Éclair were talking to a group of men with hearty blushes. She recognized a few of Bat's drinking buddies from their old hang outs. They greeted Bat with raucous shouts. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a delicate looking lycanthrope boy wearing a leather jacket speaking to Freaky Pete, the bartender. The boys said something and Freaky Pete laughed as the boy made his way to the door.

"-Yeah, take it easy Joseph." Freaky Pete called.

Maia took another swig of her drink as a broad shouldered man caught her eye and grinned. She raised an eyebrow in wry surprise. The man made his way over to her, easily wading through the crowd. Maia didn't recognize him.

"Hey." He said when he got close. He had a very deep voice.

He was nearly as tall as Bat, his body managing to be both broad and slim. He was a wearing red dress shirt underneath his thick looking dark jacket. His shirt was open at the collar, skin showing, with a small scar peeking through. It was lighter than the rest of his skin, which was smooth as a girl's, even on his chest. The hair he did have was a rich auburn, waving all the way down to his nape. He had a small goatee that somehow managed to be pulled off. When he smiled at her again, Maia could see he had very white teeth. He was handsome, in a way. Not too handsome that it put her on edge. His features weren't what would pass for conventional beauty. He was probably considered good looking because of his personality, which seemed nice.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked.

His eyes unsubtly raked her up and down. Maia, unabashed, did the same. She was still deciding on him. Bat must have sensed her hesitation because he moved closer to both her and the redhead.

"She's already got one."

The redhead's eyes wavered along, with his smile, but he didn't move. He gave Maia a rakish wink. Inside, she fluttered a bit, but she didn't let it on as Bat on the redhead sized each other up.

"But her glass is empty." He pointed.

His voice was innocent as a boy's, but deep as a man's and his eyes, which were a rich hazel, were filled to the brim with mischief. Maia had to hold back a laugh. She rolled her eyes as the two men stared at each other. The redhead didn't look like he wanted to cause trouble, but wouldn't mind being in the middle of some.

After the night that the Shadowhunter boy tore up the Hunter's Moon and picked a fight with the entire pack was something she'd never forget. Bat wouldn't either. Bat was one of the many who charged in for a chance to put the boy in his place, but had gotten trounced for his trouble. Ever since then, Bat had been itching to fight someone to boost his pride, and this redheaded man looked like just that someone.

If Maia was in a flirtier mood, she'd be a bit more willing to let them fight. A part of her wanted to watch the two powerful men fight each other, it was one of those things weres did best. However, Maia just wasn't feeling it tonight. She set down her glass, and ignoring the two guys' looks, walked away from them with a sway in her hips. Maia waved goodbye to Freaky Pete and tugged open the door.

The early autumn air swirled around her face. She blew out a sigh and felt the chill seep into her skin. Maia shut the door behind her, losing the warmth and the loud sounds of the bar. Looking up, she could see the moon hanging in the sky. It was almost full, meaning Maia's senses were sharpening themselves in preparation. The moon was higher in the sky than the steel of the city, which weaved themselves beneath the night, large crosses of metal that offset the ethereal of what was above them. It was oddly beautiful, to see the grime on the ground, oil-riddled rain water glimmering with the moon's reflection. Graffiti scrawled all over the stone of the walls. The tagging was recent, so the colors were bright as blood on snow. Trash made a cacophony of sound as it moved in the breeze and swirled at her feet. A half empty beer bottle came to rest at her feet, its glass surface glinted from the moonlight, which lit the liquid inside the bottle, and making the liquor look as thick and bright as precious amber.

The scent of iron was everywhere, overwhelming her with its industrial scent; it was a heavy stench, almost familiar. Now the chilled wind raised the hairs on her neck and the breeze carried a faint sound that she had to strain to hear over the teeming traffic just beyond her.

There was a faint gurgling and an excited growling beside it. Maia wasn't sure whether or not to be relieved or alarmed. It sounded as though she was about to walk in on a pair of lycanthropes that couldn't wait for anything more private. It was time to leave. Maia pushed herself away from the wall. Her foot touched the glass bottle, sending it spinning. It finally stopped by the other wall, the sound clattering and echoing. The strange noises suddenly stopped. The bottle shimmered in the half light of moon and shadow, light glittering on its surface. Maia peered into the darkness; she could see a figure crouched over someone else, who was writhing on the ground. Maia felt the heat come up into her face, and underneath her embarrassment she could feel something else trembling. The figure looked up. Whoever it was was still in shadow and she was not. Maia could feel the shaft of moonlight dousing her body. She was perfectly visible while the figure was not.

The growling came back, louder and deeper this time. It sounded like a lycanthrope fully changed, but something was off about it. Maia had never heard one of her own kind sound like _that_. So ominous and deep throated. It wasn't raspy, but had a quality that didn't feel real. It was making her heart pound uncomfortably in her chest. She raised her hands up.

"Sorry." She called awkwardly.

The growling didn't stop; anyone else and Maia would have asked them what their problem was, but something told her not to. Maia stared hard; someone in wolf form would be noticeable, dark as it was. Neither figure was transformed. The growling sound seemed to come from the air, as if it simply materialized. Maia pricked her ears, vaguely surprised that they had grown larger and tufted. She had no idea where the sound was coming from, but it was getting closer to her now. Maia pulled back her lips to show her teeth. The figure slowly moved from its crouch, standing up. Its back was to a streetlight that was farther down the alley, which casted a long shadow and backlit the figure. Maia instantly saw that it was female and was standing over the now still figure on the ground. Their bodies' shadows played with the competing streetlight and moonlight. Maia's eyes were drawn to something the female was holding. Something sharp; the choking metallic smell wasn't coming from the city's metal.

"Oopsie."

The voice crooned. The female's voice was teasing and something about it set Maia's teeth on edge. The female lifted the gleaming sharpness in her hand. The moon's glow exploded off its surface. A silver knife. Maia's gasp quickly became a growl and the woman laughed. Something bright was just at the edges of Maia's vision. At first she thought it was just an odd spattering of graffiti. It took all her willpower to tear her eyes away from the silver knife in the woman's hand. Finally she got a look at who was lying on the ground, really get a look; more light tumbled onto the person. It was the boy who made Freaky Pete laugh.

Joseph. He was dead.

The air sealed itself out of Maia's lungs, which seemed to press flat as they expelled anything in them. It was knocked out of her in a rush. Sounds washed out, fading into nonexistence and she ignored the odd buzzing that filled her ears. A strange voice inside her mind chanted the words.

'_He's dead, he's dead, he's dead.'_

A small part of her brain was wondering why she hadn't noticed sooner, or needed any light to do so. She could see perfectly now; improved werewolf vision getting all of the detail in crisp high definition. The body was sprawled awkwardly and was possessed with a heavy stillness, not even possessed. He possessed nothing now, no vital spark that told he had ever been alive. What she had earlier mistaken for passionate writhing was actually his death throes.

Now his blood gleamed over the dirty, trash strewn pavement. Its bold color was hurting her eyes, and she almost threw up. Maia's eyes roved over Joseph and she met his sightless gaze. His eyes were still open, boring into her and glassy with horror, and for a split second, Maia thought they would blink. They were a nice blue-grey color and Maia knew she'd never be able to look at the color again. She couldn't tear her stare away; she was trapped in place, unable to flee.

There was another strange noise, a clacking muffled keening. She heard the sound as if from underwater and it took her a fuzzy moment later to realize it was coming from her; it was muffled because it was coming from inside her. Maia's teeth were chattering so hard her mouth hurt and the whimpering was raw, filling with terror. She was frightened by her own sounds of terror.

There was a giggling that wasn't coming from her, but the woman. Reality snapped back to Maia like a rubber band. Everything was in focus now as instinct tried to wrestle back control. The moonlight hit everything, making the human debris glitter like a thousand shattered diamonds. The woman looked at the wasted body of Joseph, mouth twisted into a dry smile.

"Well, there goes that one, now I gotta start from scratch."

Maia shivered at the words as the woman blinked slowly. When a shaft of light flitted onto the woman's face, Maia could see that her eyes were black as tar and no light was reflected off of them, like two pits, except that they really were eyes. The woman stared back at Maia, and she could barely stand. The overwhelming smell of rotten eggs, blood, trash, and something rotten and burning was making her choke. She tried to keep herself standing and tried focus on the freezing air.

The woman made a small gesture and Maia flinched violently. The woman laughed; Maia knew the woman enjoyed her fear, but she couldn't help revealing her vulnerability. Maia's terror and desperation clawed inside her chest, fighting to be released. She couldn't move.

"Go on."

At first Maia thought the woman was speaking to her, but she nodded her head in Maia's direction. The growling resumed, and a sudden crunching noise made Maia look down against her will. Huge indents had appeared on the ground, crushing beer bottles, the broken glass shimmered like diamond dust.

Maia's eyes were wide as they could go, wide enough to pop out of her head. The sounds moved again; she could see the imprints of their movements. Whatever they were, they were huge. Maia could feel their footsteps reverberate through her bones, her very soul. They moved slowly and Maia's terror mounted, the anticipation making her skin crawl. The blood drained from her face, she could feel herself go pale; a wild thought that she was bleeding to death entered her mind. The growling filled her ears, drowning her. She groaned as she watched the pavement shudder and crack beneath invisible feet. The crack became a dent and suddenly, the air rushed forward. The terrible snarling and they launched themselves at Maia.

She screamed, the sound soaring to the moon. The screaming was being forced out of her in one unending shriek. She didn't care what it sounded like; the monsters were almost to her. She could feel their burning breath on her face as her screams were being bounced back into her; she felt the echoes like punches. Something solid rammed into her and her screaming went into hysterical heights. The monsters pressed down on her, their breath so heavy with stench that they had a weight of their own. It smothered her, but Maia still screamed on. She thrashed as she felt the pricking of claws and teeth.

All reason left her. Maia retreated, feeling a part of her lift up and suddenly she could see it all, as if it were happening to someone else. Her that was still on the ground was struggling wildly, as if caught in the jaws of a trap. She was obviously pinned; the force of it was embedding her in the ground. Bruises and cuts were forming. Maia's face was a mask, or something that emotion had pushed to the extremes so that it no longer looked like a face. She felt a twinge of pain at the sight and felt a downward tugging. She shied away from it, and instead focused on the woman who was laughing.

The woman moved closer to Maia, silver knife gleaming as whatever pinned Maia down waited for what the woman's command. Suddenly the door burst open, light spilling out, illuminating the woman who was now crouching over Maia. Maia, whose mouth was still a gaping gash, and her eyes rolling crazily in their sockets, and a face devoid of color.

The woman was furious, cursing as lycanthropes spilled out. Suddenly, Maia was yanked back down and the first thing she felt were hands pressing all around her. Maia felt her senses coming back to her as she fought off the hands, ignoring the crowd's attempts at soothing, and she managed to crawl away from them

Maia choked, trying to get the taste of rotten eggs out of her mouth before she began to violently throw up. Sounds began to rush over her again, as cold air blew against her overheated body. It nearly shattered her, but that fact was oddly comforting. The trash was wonderful to look at, so wonderfully ordinary at the filthy pavement was solid beneath her and was unable to move while she was on top of it. Maia was aware of her heart beating, its thudding an affirmation. That fact made the barrier between her and the world fade away at an acceptable pace. She began to listen to the words the pack was saying.

"Joseph is dead!"

"Completely drained of blood-"

"Vampires!"

"Did anyone see where the bloodsucker went?!"

"Call the Clave!"

"No, call Luke!"

Bat bent down to her line of vision, face taunt with worry and anger.

"Were you bitten?"

Maia shook her head; she probably blew her voice out with all that screaming. She felt strange; Freaky Pete had also bent down, searching her face as another pack member was gently touching her, checking for injury. Maia gingerly stood up and Bat steadied her with large hands. They began to ask her what happened, but Maia had difficulty speaking. She thought it was obvious. Freaky Pete's face was kind as he tried to usher her inside. Maia shook her head and Freaky Pete insisted, till Maia finally croaked out.

"I'll get him."

Nothing could prevent Maia from moving as she suddenly raced out of the alleyway.

SPNTMI

The kitchen was quiet as Luke finally found an unused notebook and some pens. His house wasn't usually so cluttered, but the past few days had been hectic. Clary idly scribbled on a spare sheet of paper as Simon watched.

"Ok, I'll be back later." Luke stated. "Simon, you're welcome to stay the night if you want."

Simon looked up and was about to reply, when a frantic pounding made them all jump. Someone was hammering on the door with enough force to break it down. Luke dropped the notebook onto the table and grabbed a kitchen knife.

"Stay here."

Clary watched him race to the door. She had half a mind to follow him, but as if turned out, she didn't have to. Luke came back a few minutes later, with a familiar girl with him.

"Maia?!" Simon cried.

Maia blanched at the sight of Clary and Simon. Clary thought she looked like she'd seen a ghost.

"I thought you'd be alone." She croaked; she sounded as though she had been shouting.

"Do you want to talk alone?" Luke asked, frowning in worry.

Maia paused, before finally shaking her head. "No…no, it's ok."

Luke led her into a chair; she shakily sat herself into it. Luke gestured for a glass of water, which Clary grabbed and set down in front of Maia. The other girl dimly acknowledged it with a nod. Luke pulled up a chair and sat down in front of Maia, and he slowly held up his hand and when Maia didn't glare, he put it on her shoulder.

"What happened?"

"A boy…the-" Maia struggled to speak. "Joseph is dead."

The air went still; the kitchen buzzed. Clary could see Luke thinking who that was before he realized who that was. Clary and Simon exchanged a look, dread reflecting in each other's' eyes. Clary and Simon stared at Maia. The lycanthrope girl looked uncomfortable with their scrutiny, but she seemed to be gathering herself. She straightened her shoulders and took a breath.

"His body was completely drained of blood." Her breath rattled. "I-I saw it."

Luke's body stood straighter, as if electrified.

"How?"

Maia shuddered, but clarified. "Well, not really. I-I went out. I was at the Hunter's Moon and when I went outside to get some fresh air I saw it. Someone was standing over Joseph, and well…they, they noticed me."

Her last words were a whisper, and then she tried to go into detail, her words tumbling out in a rush, tripping over themselves as they hurried to get out of her.

"When I got there, Joseph was already dead, and-and then they attacked me."

"Attacked you?" Simon asked, horrified.

"They?" prompted Luke.

Maia shuddered. "A woman with black eyes and she had these _things_ with her."

Clary felt her whole body plunge into ice water. She sensed more than saw Simon stiffen. She remembered Jace's pale face and shivered at the memory. If it could rattle Jace, then it probably was a big deal, and she didn't even want to imagine what the things were. Clary turned to Luke, childishly hoping he could fix this. He looked deep in thought.

"Do you think you were attacked, because you interrupted her?" he asked gently.

Maia nodded. "I think so." Her face pinched. "This has happened before hasn't it?"

Luke nodded gravely. "I need to inform the Clave. Maia, you're a witness, they'll have questions for you. Do you think you can hang in there?"

Maia nodded. "Yeah, umm…you might want to let everyone at the Hunter's Moon know "I'm ok." She gave a wry smile. "I pretty much tore outta there."

"Sure. I have to go there anyway." He squeezed Maia's shoulder. "I'll have to go to the Institute to bring the Shadowhunters here. Are you ok waiting with Simon and Clary?"

Maia nodded so vigorously her braids clacked together. "Yeah, yeah I'll be fine."

"Clary, could you call the Institute? That way, they'll be prepared."

Clary nodded and Luke gave the three of them one last smile before striding out and they heard the door shut behind him. The silence buzzed on, with the three of them sitting in the cramped and cluttered kitchen. Clary pulled out her phone, staring at it.

"Want some coffee? I think you'll need it for the Shadowhunters." Simon said to Maia.

"That'd be great." Maia gave Simon a tight smile.

With a sigh, Clary flipped open the phone, her mouth suddenly went dry as her body fizzed with nerves. She scrolled trough her address book, barely reading the numbers; she had to go through the list twice to find what she wanted. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons. Clary could practically feel the splotchy flush on her face.

"Here" Simon handed Maia a mug of coffee.

Maia reached for it, ready to take it. Their fingertips brushed. It was like a static shock. Maia's hand flinched and she jerked back so quickly that she knocked over her chair as she hurried to get out of the way, and sent the mug of hot coffee flying through the air.

Clary gaped as she watched Maia turn pale as a corpse, her eyes wide and now golden. Her ears had become pointed, the fur blending with her hair and when she next spoke her teeth were jagged and lethal. Maia was staring at Simon with a mixture of terror and revulsion.

"Vampire." She spat.

The look on Simon's face was devastating. His shock and hurt made his face tiny with youth. Suddenly Clary was furious at Maia, but before she could respond, Simon's face crumpled with grave resignation.

"Yes I am." He said.

"I thought you were human!" she cried. "When we first met-"

"I still am!" he interrupted.

Simon moved closer, but Maia held up a hand, claws shooting out. They extended far, cutting Simon's cheek. His eyes widened as a thin red line appeared. When his mouth widened, needle sharp incisors were visible. Maia blanched further, making her look sickly. Simon was looking furious and desperate. He spread his arms imploringly. Simon's grimace revealed his teeth. The veins at his temple squirmed beneath the skin, snaking angrily as if trying to burst out of the skin.

Clary thought he did look fearsome, but so did Maia. The lycanthrope was trembling, and Clary couldn't tell if she was trying to prevent herself from further changing or not.

"No you're not!" Maia's voice shook. "You drink blood!"

"Not human." He assured.

"Only because the Shadowhunters will kill you if you do!" she cried. "But that doesn't stop you guys does it?! Joseph was just a kid! What kind of monster does that?!"

"Not a vampire." Clary insisted.

"What else could it be?!" Maia shrieked. "Those bodies were completely drained of blood!"

Simon pleaded. "But, even if that were true, what has that got to do with me?! You can trust me."

"How can I?!" her face twisted in desperation. "When our species are enemies? The demons that our species came from are mortal enemies, and that's why we've never gotten along."

"What?" Simon cried.

"Eventually, you'll hate me. Luke too." Her voice was bitter.

"No." Simon was horrified, voice breathy with pain.

Clary gritted her teeth in fury. How dare this girl make Simon feel this way?! Simon moved forward too far, and Maia snarled. Clary envisioned two angry beasts in a pit and before either could react, Clary moved, pushing herself in between them. Simon pulled back sharply.

"That's enough."

Maia made a noise; her fear was tangible, contagious. She looked like a cornered dog, and Clary could sense Simon's expression of pain behind her.

"The vampires, the things-they'll kill us all!" Maia shouted.

Maia seemed close to hyperventilating, and she tried to speak, but Clary raised her hand and raced it against Maia's cheek. The sound was like a thunderclap inside the tiny kitchen, it rumbled the room. Maia didn't even raise a hand to touch her cheek. Color was coming back into her face, as if summoned by the slap. It gave her a thick flush and Clary just realized how hard she had struck Maia, and she started to speak.

"Get a hold of yourself. You're both downworlders for crying out loud! I know for a fact that those murders weren't the work of vampires!" the firmness in Clary's tone made Maia gasp. "It's about time to put this enemy nonsense behind us. If we don't, we really will all die."

The door burst open, left to bang loudly. They didn't even have time to jump before people streamed into the kitchen. The Shadowhunters had arrived. The Inquisitor was at the head of the group, with Mayrse and Luke hurriedly flanking her. Isabelle and Jace brought up the rear. Clary's eyes automatically zeroed in on Jace. He looked furious and Clary realized what he must be seeing and she flushed with embarrassment. His gold eyes burned with critical scrutiny.

Clary blinked in shock at the look, shying away from it and instead picked out an obvious detail. They had gotten to Luke's faster than she thought; Luke hadn't been gone that long, and she didn't have time to call them. So their speed had startled her.

"What, do guys have jet packs or something?" she quipped, feeling stupid.

The silence that greeted her just heightened her embarrassment. Clary could see Isabelle grimace and her mother Maryse wore a similar expression, although for probably for a different reason. The Inquisitor was eying the kitchen with distaste as if to say, _'this is where you live?'_

Clary flushed hard at the dissecting scrutiny. Clary was not only embarrassed for Luke, but also for herself; she lived her now. Never before had Clary been conscious of the mess, or really even cared about it. All the Inquisitor saw was a cramped and dingy apartment of a downworlder, and suddenly Clary hated her. If she even dared to say one word about Luke…

"What do you think you are doing Clarissa?" Jace asked coldly. "Do you have the slightest comprehension of just how dangerous it is to get between two downworlders?"

His voice was a sharpened edged that put Clary on the defensive, but before she could reply Simon spoke.

"Don't talk to her like that!" he snapped.

Jace's gaze became more hostile as it rested on Simon, who fiercely glared back.

"I'll speak to my sister any way I please. This has nothing to do with you vampire, we came for the werewolf."

Clary could see Maia bristle at the tone, and she couldn't blame her. Clary could see Maia's eyes had reverted back to their amber brown and were clear and calm. She was untransformed, and she seemed to be trying not to look embarrassed. She wasn't looking at either Clary or Simon, but directly at Jace.

"Well?" Jace asked Maia.

Maia regarded him with a straight back, and she didn't look bothered by Jace's tone, but Clary was. It bothered her because it matched his expression. The way he was looking at Maia; contemptuous and amused, like whatever was clinging to his shoes was making him laugh. There was something beneath it, a varnish that was peeling away to reveal the original color. It was anger, but not fury, but desperation. Clary wasn't sure, but it gave her a foreboding feeling, which she pushed down to make room for anger.

"Jace." She stated. "Stop insulting my friends."

Jace looked surprised at her tone, but his gaze left her anchored in place; he seemed to nod, with an intense grimace.

"Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, little sister."

Clary shuddered at Jace's voice. His tone was calm, could be patronizing, but no body language suggested he was calm, in fact, he looked ready for a fight. The contrast was alarming her, and made heat flare throughout her body. She was being observed mercilessly. How did he manage to look so vulnerable and be challenging at the same time? Jace really was a study in contrasts-

Simon made a snorting noise. "Oh for, quit fl-"

He suddenly cut himself off. Clary turned. Simon snapped his mouth shut and she could see he was gritting his teeth. His dark eyes wide, and suddenly she knew what he had stopped himself from saying.

"Quit Flirting."

Clary was just as suddenly aware that the room was full. Full of people that they, knew, their families. She felt a sudden wellspring of shame; the beast inside her slunk back into its hidden cage. Simon had stopped himself from saying what he wanted so badly to say, to get out into the open. Instead he had to let it fester inside. Clary didn't know whether to feel gratitude that he kept his silence for her, or to scream because of the anger in his voice.

Clary saw Jace's eyes burst; all traces of vulnerability were gone and replaced with a hard cool mask. He was staring at her and she repressed a shudder. She had to get a hold of herself.

"Enough chest thumping." She hated how unsteady her voice sounded.

"Yes please." Isabelle muttered.

Before Clary could shoot her a grateful look, Maryse exchanged a look with the Inquisitor before speaking.

"Lucien has informed us of what has happened." Maryse began.

"Tell us what you know, downworlder." The Inquisitor demanded.

Clary turned in worry to regard Maia. His many people crowding her must have been stressful and Clary wondered if she could squeeze Maia's shoulder just moments after slapping her. Luke hastily pulled up chairs for everyone. Every teen except Jace sat down. He stood far from Clary and he was standing across the Inquisitor, who also refused to sit down with one eyebrow raised in disgust. Maryse herself looked as if she wanted to be anywhere but Luke's.

Clary wondered if Maia would need prompting, but she didn't and when she spoke her voice was firm. Maia seemed to have her tough girl persona back on as she recalled the previous hours. Maryse was the one who was recording the conversation, and when she looked to the Inquisitor, the older woman gave her a brisk nod. Jace spoke next, pushing a sheet of paper and handing a pencil to Maia.

"How old are you?" he asked.

Maia looked incredulous. She gave him a half angry, half swaggering reply.

"Pervert. I don't date dicks."

Maryse's lips thinned and Simon suppressed a snigger. Jace gave Maia a withering look.

"Don't flatter yourself. Valentine is targeting minors."

"Fine. Fifteen. Happy?"

"Ecstatic. I'll be sure to make a pass at you later."

Maia wrote the information and handed the sheet back. The Shadowhunters stood up, and Maia didn't bother to look at them. Simon back up to make room for them as they made their way out of the kitchen. Luke smiled encouragingly at Maia.

"There is a guest bedroom if you want to crash here."

Maia blinked, "Hmm? Oh, um ok, I guess. Thanks." She mumbled.

Luke nodded and then began to speak to Maryse in low tones. Clary stood up.

"I'll get it set up for you." She told Maia.

Maia gave a mumble of acknowledgement. As Clary brushed past the group, she caught a snatch of Luke's conversation with Maryse

"Thank you for agreeing to do this."

"It's alright." She said tightly. "Better than doing nothing I suppose."

"Hmmph." The Inquisitor interrupted.

Clary hurried up the stairs, steps muted by carpet. She went to the linen closet, hands roaming the shelves. Clary could see the old comforter tucked away in a corner. She had to tug hard to get it out and she let it fill her hands; the softness made her want to hug it to herself. Grabbing the rest of the bedding, she turned around and was face to face with Jace. She hadn't heard him at all, and they were inches apart.

Clary gasped and dropped her armful. Jace bent down and picked them up. Clary reached out her arms for them, but he didn't return them to her.

"You've been avoiding me." He stated.

Clary gaped at that, indignant and confusion battling inside her. "Only because I thought you hated me."

"I don't hate you."

Profound relief flooded Clary, but it froze as Jace continued, laughing without humor.

"I should. I want to." His voice became speculative. "Who knows? Maybe someday I will."

Clary gave a bitter laugh; she was brutally reminded of the way Simon looked at her in the Faerie Court. She hated their stares, the way she could never please anyone anymore.

"You think this is easy for me?" she snapped.

Jace gave her a hard, black and white stare. "Isn't it? After all, you love Simon."

Clary was insulted. "Of course I do! I love him just as much-" she felt like she swallowed something sharp. "I'm trying my best!"

Now it was Jace's turn to be insulted. "So am I."

Clary didn't want to think about how hard it was for Jace, only that she hadn't had a decent night's sleep in a week.

"It's different! You don't have to choose, you have a family."

The dark circles underneath Jace's eyes stood like bruise against his skin. His face gave a sudden wrench of agony; he couldn't keep his mask up. Clary wondered if it had anything to do with her, and if it did what could she do about it?

Jace's voice was taunt. "No I don't."

"The Lightwoods-" Clary started to say.

"Don't give a damn about me." He swallowed quickly. "Apparently, neither do you!" he sounding like he was choking on something.

"I do." Clary was filled with wild desperation, it was overtaking her. "Too much! You're family, I should love you like family-like I do Simon, who by the way, deserves more! He deserves to be happy; I should love him like I do you!" she struggled to get her breathing under control.

Whatever Jace had braced himself to hear, this wasn't it. There was a new anguish in his face as he looked into Clary's eyes.

"Clary-"

The stairs creaked. Clary turned to see Simon had come up. He looked confused at first; he had probably come up to see what was taking her so long. Simon took one look at the scene and his expression hardened. Clary wondered what his vampire eyes could see. She could only imagine. As she dangled off the edge of a cliff waiting for his response, Jace shoved the blankets into her hands with viscous force.

"Oh." Simon softly said.

Jace suddenly moved, pushing past Simon and went down the stairs. Simon met Clary's eyes and she wasn't sure what he was seeing, or what he was thinking. Suddenly she wanted him; the old Simon who gave her easy smiles and let her borrow his CD's till eternity.

Simon wordlessly left, following the path Jace took. The rejection was too much; alone in the hall, Clary let the blankets drop to the floor. The only thing she wanted to do was pull her hair and scream and wail, with a good dose of rocking back and forth, or just collapsing into a heap. She felt the sadness as a ship feels an anchor, but if she just sunk to the ground, she'd never get up. So she did the next best thing. She cursed.

"Goddamn it!"

She whispered in a vicious frustration that didn't feel strong enough for her and she raced downstairs. She ignored the kitchen full of people as she yanked open the back door; she heard it slam behind as she followed Simon, who was striding across Luke's backyard.

"Wait-please wait!' she cried.

Simon didn't turn around. "You're busy, and it's late."

"Bull!" Clary shouted.

Simon turned around, sad and frustrated, "Clary-"

"I know! It's wrong and messed up, but I'm trying."

Simon held up his hands. "I know. I know you are. It's just how you feel; it's not your fault."

Clary knew he meant it. "Just give me time." She begged.

"Finally! Honesty!"

Clary held back tears. "I know. I'm sorry. This shouldn't be happening to you. I should love you like I do him." The pain was making her gasp.

"I don't want you to think you have to love me. That just makes it worse."

Clary held back on her keening whimper. He was right; being the next best thing was awful, even worse was that she was forcing both of them to go through this, to love him in such a way, like there was something wrong with him. Shame and guilt for making Simon feel that way, however inadvertently made her want to tug her hair.

"I want to love you like that. I can." She meant it. She really meant it.

Simon's tone was wistful. "Somehow, I don't think you ever will."

Clary was suddenly angry. "Why not?"

"Have you ever felt like you couldn't trust the person you love?" he asked.

Thrown off guard, Clary thought before answering. "…I think so."

"Then you know how horrible that is to do to someone." He said.

Clary nodded vigorously, tears at last coming to her eyes. If only she could choose her blood. It made shame so deep and complete that all she wanted to do was hide, but that didn't stop the beast inside from making its cries, pleading its case. She didn't know how to make these feelings go away, to turn into something more acceptable, normal. She cut off a wail.

"Yes. You're so good. You don't hurt the people around you."

Simon looked too unsurprised to be alarmed, but the empathy was clear on his face.

"This isn't your fault; this is just something that happened."

Clary sobbed. "I wish…"

Simon looked close to tears himself. "I know. Me too."

He strode forward and hugged her. With Simon's arms wrapped around her, Clary felt like she could almost pretend. She pressed her cheek against his chest. Clary would never hear his heart beat again. She whimpered; their lives had been altered beyond recognition, but there was nothing more to say. They both knew it wouldn't get any better, no matter how much they tried not to hurt each other. Clary suddenly knew she could never pretend again.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Simon's breath blew her hair like a kiss. Clary trembled with a longing she couldn't identify and the Simon pulled back, and strode out of sight. His words left a ghostly imprint on her skin, like he really was dead and never was. With a heavy heart she went back inside. She saw Jace fiddling with a piece of something sharp and glinting in his hand, but when he caught her looking at it, he tucked into his pocket. The Shadowhunters finally looked like they were getting ready to leave. Clary heard the Inquisitor say.

"Are we through wasting time with this?"

Clary heard a murmured reply, but then Maryse distinctly spoke.

"Yes I believe we are." She sounded as if she were gritting her teeth.

"Fine." The Inquisitor roughly grabbed Jace by the arm. "Come along boy."

Clary's line of vision was suddenly blocked by Maia. The girl looked anxious.

"Um…where's Simon?"

Clary blinked. "Why?" she was surprised at the chill in her tone.

"Well…because I wanted to say I'm sorry. I really freaked out. "Maia laughed nervously.

"Yeah you did." Clary continued. "What was all that fighting species stuff?"

Maia flushed and Clary was meanly pleased to see Maia's self-mortification.

"Well, I guess I could overlook it. Please. I just want to tell him I'm sorry."

"He left." Maia's face crumpled. "He went home."

Maia was thoughtful for a moment, before her expression cleared with an idea.

"Well, I can track his scent so…" she hesitated. " Do you think he'll forgive me?"

Clary looked at Maia for a moment and softened.

"He is the forgiving type."

Maia's relief was obvious. "Can you tell Luke I said thank you?"

Clary gave a brief nod, and Maia looked at her for a few moments.

"Thanks. For everything."

Clary nodded again as Maia opened the door and raced into the night. Clary felt a stab of bitter jealousy. She wanted to be the one to chase after Simon, but after tonight, she wasn't sure she had any right to. When did her life stop being real? It was some strange fantasy that she had been dropped into, and felt like taking over a stranger's life. A stranger who could not stop herself from causing others pain, and was only able to be buffeted about by the current. Clary didn't think she ever figure out how to stop being powerless.

"Where'd Maia go?" asked Luke.

"Hmm?" Clary replied absently. "Oh, she changed her mind. She said thanks though."

"I see." Luke's face was a knot of worry.

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine."

Luke went over to her; not that it was just the two of them, it was eerily quiet. Luke put his arm around her and Clary tried to draw comfort from it.

"It'll get better tomorrow." He said.

Clary nodded, hoping it was true, because right now she never felt more alone.

SPNTMI

Maia followed Simon's scent as it led her to central park. She was gaining on him; one thing lycanthropes and vampires had in common was incredible speed. She wondered just where it was that Simon had lived, and she hoped that she'd catch up to him in time. Then, she could see him, striding on a concrete path up ahead. Maia shouted, waving her arms He turned, looking startled by her sudden appearance. She couldn't blame him. Maia skidded to a halt at his feet.

"I'm sorry." She said without preamble.

"Sorry?"

She couldn't tell if he didn't understand or was angry with her. She fidgeted.

"You know. For my freaking out earlier."

"Oh."

"So…yeah." Maia had no idea what was going to happen next

"What about all that ancient species stuff?" he asked. "I thought we could never be friends."

Maia flinched. "Well…I don't know if that's true, but Clary said you were a pretty great guy. So if that doesn't happen between us, I'd be really happy."

Simon blinked in surprise.

"I mean," Maia continued. "You still like Luke right?"

"Of course."

Maia's hesitation vanished and her grin was almost childlike with delight. Simon's expression cleared like mist on the begging of a summer day. The two smiled at each other.

"Awwww." A voice crooned.

Both jumped and a sharp breeze blew past, scattering leaves around the person who interrupted them. It was a slight, dark haired woman. Something about her seemed off.

"Well look-y here. A were and a vamp getting along, almost sittin' in a tree."

Her sing song tone set Simon's teeth on edge. She wasn't a mundane, and definitely not a Shadowhunter. The wind blew again and this time a faint growling was carried on the wind. Maia's face went through a series of emotion before settling on horrified recognition. She seemed unable to move; Simon put himself in front of her. The woman seemed more amused by the reaction than anything else. She put on slim finger to her lips in mock thought.

"You know, it's a good thing those Shadowhunters don't give a crap about you downworlders, makes my job easier."

"You-" Maia pointed a shaking finger at the woman. Her had difficulty speaking. "You-you killed Joseph!"

Simon gaped in shock, feeling his fangs descend. The woman was interrupted from her reverie. She gave a breathy laugh.

"He was a screamer."

The growling grew louder, leaves crunching nothing. Maia shrieked, backing into a tree. Simon pressed himself in front of her, lips pulled back. He flinched when the sounds got closer.

"Well." She drew out the word. "I really wish boss man didn't want to do it this way, but if want something done right…"

The woman smiled.

SPNTMI

"So this'll really work?"

"Stealth is prized among the Children of the Night."

Jace snorted.

"Does this mean I am out of your debt?"

"Hardly."

"Well, I had thought that falling out of favor with the Clave would teach you a little humility."

"Pretty sharp ears."

"Of course."

"Later, Raphael."

Jace straddled the bike, and the motorcycle roared to life beneath him. Jace hit the throttle and he soared above the parking lot. Jace sped forward toward the east river. At the speed he was going, it didn't take him that long to get there. Jace's eyes scanned the harbor, intent on finding his target.

The ships reminded him of Idris in a way. Of when he went out on the water, and saw the graceful boats of the Nephilim dotting the lakes and rivers of his home. Try as he might, Jace could never quite take to New York City, not when he knew of Idris. The sharp wind of the river banished these thoughts. The prow of a ship was jutting out of the water. Jace stared. It was a black ship, too large to be a yacht or any other pleasure boat, but to slender to be a warship. Its odd size made it stand out, but Jace instantly knew it was glamoured to be hidden from mundane sight.

It was exactly what he was looking for. Jace flew higher, looking for a clear spot to land. He looked down and with a shock saw him. Valentine and he was staring up at him, straight through him. Jace had to clamp down on his emotions. He descended easily, the bike going silent as soon as Jace touched down. Jace looked at Valentine.

"You don't seem surprised to see me."

"I am. I was beginning to wonder if you would ever return to me."

Jace grimaced. "You sound so sure of yourself. I have questions."

"As do I. For example, how did you find me?" Valentine sounded politely curious.

"Magnus Bane has been trying to track you. I remembered that you always loved to sail. I could have told them that and it would have all been over."

"So you've come to protect me?"

Jace swallowed. "I told you I have questions."

Valentine inclined his head. "Naturally. Ask away."

"When you stole the sword that night, you wanted me to come back with you, but that night at Renwick's, you left." Jace struggled to keep his voice steady. "Why?"

Valentine stared hard and Jace felt nostalgia at the scrutiny. His father looked genuinely regretful.

"That is something I should apologize for. When we were reunited that day, I had gotten ahead of myself, thinking my child would still be the same person he was all those years ago." Valentine shook his head ruefully. "But, in my absence you have grown into an admirable man. My biggest regret is that I was not there to see it."

_ 'You could have.'_ Jace thought, but he didn't dare say it out loud.

Valentine was continuing.

"And now you are persecuted by the Clave for the simple crime of being my son. The cowards do not have the capacity to challenge me, so they go for you instead."

"What did you expect?" Jace asked, surprised by the bitterness in his tone.

Valentine nodded his head, as if the two were now of the same mind.

"Now you finally understand their true colors. Why I go against them. They are corrupt, mingling with degenerates, and they restrict those who have the greatest potential. The Clave needs to be changed, so I will change it." His voice was finite.

Jace remembered similar tirades; they were as familiar as his study books. He felt an odd mixture of foreboding and bruised affection. He shook his head to clear it.

"Surely you have noticed it? Demons run rampant while the Clave preoccupies itself with making alliances with the half breed downworlders, who will cause further decay to the Clave while its members do nothing to stop it. They are so busy trying to ensure a half-baked peace with dangerous animals, so that soon will be overrun with demons. There are not enough Shadowhunters in the world to carry on our duty. That must be changed at all costs."

"So you will be the one to change it." Jace made it a statement. "How, by force?"

Valentine was unperturbed. "If I have to, but I certainly do not want to Jonathan."

Jace thought of the Lightwoods'. They were a part of the Clave as any other. He suddenly felt sick.

"The Lightwoods'." He breathed.

"Are the ones who are a cause of most of your misfortune. Maryse threw you out-oh yes, I heard about that. The Inquisitor- Imogen, put you into the Silent City's prison. I imagine Maryse did nothing to stop it. Tell me, the way they treat you, is that the way a family acts?"

Jace had difficulty clearing his thoughts. He wasn't sure how families were supposed to act, period. He cleared his throat, willing the subject to change.

"But why?" he then clarified. "I mean, why you? Why do you have to be the one to change things?"

"Because only I can see this problem for what it is. Because someone has to."

"Even if you have to break the law?" Jace wasn't that surprised to hear that this was Valentine's opinion. "But isn't breaking the law to change the law cheating?" he felt childish for putting it that way.

Valentine however, seemed to know what he was talking about. He began to walk forward and Jace followed him.

"What is right? Is it wrong to act against authority?" Valentine mused. "We could debate this matter for days, but the truth is deceptively simple."

"But if you think you know better than the law, then what makes you no better than the law?"

Valentine gave a booming laugh that made Jace homesick.

"Excellent wordplay and just the right response to temper my pride. This is exactly why I need you Jonathan."

Jace felt the confusion of just what it was that he was needed for. It battled with the desire to be wanted.

"You know what they think right?" he hazarded.

Valentine shrugged, the gesture looking effortless.

"To them I am a monster, but that doesn't matter. It takes a true patriot to have the courage to rebel. This is for their own good, and if I have to use my supposed monstrosity to do so then I will." He stated simply.

Jace shuddered; his father was as charismatic as ever. Valentine seemed to realize the struggle raging inside Jace.

"I am in the right Jonathan. For whatever that is worth, I am in the right."

Valentine led Jace to the end of the ship.

"I will explain."

They stopped walking. Jace felt against his will, that he was waiting with bated breath. Valentine reached and gripped the hilt of a blade. It was the Soul-Sword. Jace could recognize it with ease and it was released from the scabbard with an impressive ringing. Jace stared at the blade in shock. It was dark, but somehow bright, as if absorbing the light of its surroundings. It emanated a powerful aura.

"You recall Milton?" at Jace's nod, he continued. "Well, in some respects he was correct. His portrayal of Lucifer was surprisingly accurate."

At these words, Jace felt dread. He was unable to tune the words out.

"Lucifer was one of the most beloved of all the angels, and he loved God so much so that when he was told that he must bow to man, he could not bring himself to do so. That was the nature of his fall."

"But he still fell. He was still cast into Hell." Jace was aghast at the surreal turn of their conversation.

"He is no longer. Lucifer walks the earth. An angel visited me, willing to ally with myself."

Jace shuddered; he had an idea which one it was. He wanted to press his hands over his ears.

"He has told me many things. About Raziel and the nature of demons-both of them. Before Lucifer fell it was this sword that defended Heaven against the demons and spilled their heinous blood. Like Raziel, he wanted to continue to fight them instead of bowing to man, but he was punished for loving God too much to listen to his command."

Jace was shocked that Valentine would make similarities to Lucifer and Raziel. He wasn't sure how much truth there was to what Valentine was saying, and that uncertainty was agony to Jace.

"The fact that this sword is in Nephilim possession means that we are the chosen ones. We are the only ones that can protect this world, as is our birthright."

Valentine held out the sword for Jace to take. Jace looked into Valentine's dark eyes and when his father nodded, Jace took the blade the way his father showed him how. As soon as Jace's hands wrapped around the handle he gasped. Cold shot up his arm, settling into his bones as his fingers became pale. He doubled over; it wasn't heavy per se, but it was dragging him downward, with a pull almost as though two magnets were meeting. He also had a strange but distinct feeling that it did not want to be held by him. Jace shivered, wanting to let go, but then his attention had being taken away to what had suddenly appeared before them. What he was seeing filled him with horror. There were demons, as if called forth.

Demons in all manner of monstrosity, too horrible to describe, full of poison and in shapes he had never seen before. Jace shuddered at their numbers. They were coming from all directions, from the water bubbling up; the only thing keeping them apart from the two worlds was a barrier. Jace could see it out of the corner of his eye, the thin sheet that separated the two, created distinct edges of the world. Jace looked up; the sky formed fissures, cracks that had all kinds of appendages poking through.

He could see past them, to the grid of which the universe was formed, what separated the planes by curve and light. It burned his eyes, and overcame him. He gasped as Valentine's hands gently pried the sword out of his grip. At once the light and demons vanished. Jace swayed as Valentine strapped the sword back into its confines. Jace resisted the urge to vomit.

"So that's it-that's what you're doing."

"My army, yes."

"No." Jace breathed.

"Yes." Valentine was firm.

"But the Clave, they will fight." Alec and Isabelle's faces flashed in his mind.

Valentine shook his head. "They are too cowardly for that, and they will surrender once they see the power I have assembled."

"But demons, I thought you hated them."

"I do. They are simply a means to an end. When the task is complete, I will give the order to annihilate themselves, since the sword's wielder has that kind of power."

Jace was shaking uncontrollably. One of the few remaining pieces clicked into place and he almost wished he never found out. He turned to Valentine; he knew he must look awful.

"I could tell. I could get right off this ship and tell the Inquisitor everything you just told me. I've got enough information to stop you."

Valentine's look of utter confidence quieted Jace.

"I trust you."

His simple answer floored Jace like nothing else could. Something frantic had broken in his chest. He wanted to collapse with gratitude, and hated himself for it. He quickly and mentally shook himself; he needed a better grip on the emotions that were helplessly tumbling out of him. He could understand how he could feel despair and relief at the same time. He took a shuddering breath and took a sinful plunge, feeling painful jolts of electricity course through him.

"If- _if_ I do this, you need to guarantee their safety."

Valentine didn't need to ask for who Jace was talking about.

"Of course."

"Every last one." He insisted.

"I would only do this for you."

Jace suppressed a bitter laugh.

'_Small favors.' _He thought. _'Lucky me that Dad will spare their lives.'_

Valentine was giving his son a measured but deep look.

"I know you care for them, even though they don't care for you. It means you have compassion. It makes me proud to call you my son. Never forget that you are not a Lightwood, but a Morgenstern. It is our destiny to hurt those we love. That just means we can do the impossible. So why not put all your talents to use?"

Jace bowed his head, feeling the weight of the truth. When Jace finally looked up, he could see a vast multitude if stars. It was a beautiful night and he could feel the city's air in his lungs, so different from Idris, pumping in his heart. It was a good night to be alive, feeling the despair.

"This reminds me of when you showed me how to sail."

Jace wasn't sure why he said it.

"Ah yes, we'll have to do that again."

From anyone else it would have been normal. Jace suddenly wanted to cry.

"Yes." He felt the need to say it again. "Yes, I'll do it."

He looked back at Valentine. His father gave him a look of utter delight. Jace didn't have to search long to know that it was genuine. He knew all of his father's expressions and this was one of his best. It made him look younger, and somehow fiercer. For some reason, seeing Valentine this happy made Jace's heart break, like that portal mirror, and the shard was still in his pocket.

"Then come. There is something That I'll need your assistance with."

Valentine strode to a door by the side of the deck, with its entrance leading down below. Valentine pulled out his stele and opened the door with a rune. As they walked down the stairs, the air became colder, until their breath was visible. Jace looked around; the industrial interior was very different from his father's usual preferences. Catwalks and ladders competed for space in the stark underbelly of the ship. It was larger inside than what Jace would have thought; they passed rooms filled with machinery. Jace couldn't tell if they were still in use, but he didn't really care.

He felt as though had just misplaced, or rather given, away something important, something that he could never, no matter how hard he tried would never get back again.

'_Was it worth it?'_

Jace pushed out his thoughts as Valentine finally stopped in front of a large metal entryway.

"Ah, here we are." Valentine said.

He showed Jace inside the room, and began speaking again. Jace wasn't listening. Everything slowed to a crawl, sounds pushed out as he stared in horror and hoped his eyes were deceiving him.

SPNTMI

**TBC…**


	5. Just before dawn

**Disclaimer: I do not own either MI or SPN. **

**Warnings: Buckets of Violence.**

**AN: All action, all the time. Crank the AC/DC!**

**Word count: 27,135**

SPNTMI

Chapter 5: Just before Dawn.

Jace stared. His father's voice was surrounding him, soaking into his bones.

"After the previous interruption, I had them brought here."

Jace's head was spinning. "Interruption?"

"Yes. I wanted to prevent another one. I thought it would be more prudent to bring them here to finish the Conversion Ritual without any problems."

Jace swallowed hard, sweat breaking out. His heart was clamoring to be released as every part of him screamed not to go any further. What he was staring at was staring right back at him. Simon and Maia. The two were shackled to the floor, thick metal wrapping around their wrists and ankles. Simon was glaring at Jace with a fierce loathing. Maia was glancing between all of the men, looking frightened and confused. She seemed unable to believe that this was happening; Jace had a hard time believing it himself.

Jace felt a fear that only rivaled his memories of being in the Silent City. With Simon glaring at him, he was instantly reminded of Clary and how her heart would break at the sight of Simon chained like an animal. Jace felt a hot, painful wave after wave of self-loathing. He welcomed Simon's hate, it was much deserved. Jace knew he'd never forget the expression Simon was giving him, or Maia's wavering look of wariness. It was only an hour or so that he had last seen her, and she still managed to get caught. Jace couldn't appreciate the irony. Maia was trying to desperately hide her fear, but it didn't escape Jace; he could smell it on her, and she was his victim. Jace never felt so sick in his entire life. He wanted to die.

Jace felt the crashing reality, as though something heavy in his soul had snapped in half and thundered downwards, the sound painfully filled his ears as all he was told rained down, destroyed and all his own doing. He had betrayed his own rules, the rules of the Clave. He deserved their punishment. Jace swallowed, his throat didn't seem to be working properly because of the large chunks of regret that were lodged firmly inside.

Jace knew exactly what was going to happen to Maia, to Simon. Their deaths would devastate Clary. She tried so hard to keep Simon safe, and he was always in her thoughts. Instantly, Jace could picture her expression of grief when she realized that Simon was dead, would be dead. By Jace's own hand no less and he might as well have stabbed him right then and there. Or better yet, not have let him rise from that shallow grave in a Jewish cemetery.

He remembered that night so vividly, how Clary looked at him as though he were a monster and how she covered Simon's body with her own. She struggled so desperately, and her grief had frightened Jace in that special way that only Clary was capable of doing. Jace knew she couldn't do that again, no matter how willing she'd be to do it. It would crush her, and she'd never be able to go on, Jace knew that much. Simon was an irreplaceable part of her life, and he, Jace was about to take it away. She told him that she did love him, but Jace was certain that if he did this, she would most definitely hate him.

His mind felt clear, sharp, and painful. As though a haze had been removed from it; it took all of Jace's willpower not to collapse to the floor. He knew he had to say goodbye to all his pleasant memories, and even though he knew it was a useless hope, he still felt it flutter angrily in his chest. He turned to Valentine, feeling so small.

"What is it Jonathan?"

"How did you find these two?"

"I had ordered for a werewolf and a vampire to be brought to me. A demon calling itself Meg had stumbled upon them, and brought them to me."

"She has been the one who's been responsible for the murders?"

"Yes."

Jace shuddered. "Well, maybe there is another way. Someone else."

Jace felt sick and disgusted with himself for suggesting it. To just let someone else die, even if it wasn't these particular downworlders, was just plain unthinkable. He tried to plead with Valentine, who was looking into his face carefully, and Jace felt a thrill of fear go through him. He wondered if Valentine could guess his thoughts, but Valentine's face cleared and Jace felt another childish hope that his father would understand that these two had to be spared.

"Ah, that's right. As I recall, the vampire is some sort of pet to Clarissa."

Jace wanted to point out that to her, Simon was family, but that seemed like giving his father a weapon he shouldn't be allowed to have. Valentine frowned disapprovingly.

"She shouldn't keep such company with such monstrosities. It's undignified for a Shadowhunter girl. Who knows what that could lead to?"

Jace shivered, not at the words, but the way Valentine had said them and just what that meant. Simon would not be spared just because Jace knew him.

"You're the monstrosity, you piece of shit, how about you-" Maia shouted, straining against the metal that held her in place.

She was half transformed, lunging at Valentine with her thick canines snapping at him. Valentine looked down at her with a kind of clinical distaste. He took his eyes off her, uncaring that an angry werewolf was trying to claw out his throat. Taking a small pouch off of one of his enormous belts, he untied the draw string and poured out some of the contents onto his open palm. It was powder, shimmering like snow, but it was silver rather than white. Jace knew what it was at once, but before he could move, Valentine acted.

Valentine bent down at Maia's level, undisturbed by the close proximity of her claws. He blew the power right into her face. It quickly settled onto her skin and she screamed. Valentine stood up brushing his hands together as if he had only been holding dirt and he didn't even bother to look at Maia as she howled and writhed below him. Her cries of pain assaulted Jace's ears, and he restrained the urge to bent down and unchain her. Simon quickly shouted, terrified for Maia, whose eyes were shut tight as she tried to get the silver power off of her. She was coughing violently, accidently inhaling some of the deadly stuff.

Simon was looking at the two of them with such a vicious glare and Jace nearly backed away, but Valentine did not. Simon stood up as far as his manacles would allow and put himself in front of Maia, one hand on her shoulder.

"Bastard." He spat. "She's just a girl for-"

He choked and Valentine laughed. He knew what Simon had meant to say, and to hear it from a vampire must have insulted him.

"You were about to say God, weren't you?"

Simon just bared his teeth, fury and humiliation plain on his face; for his religion to be used against him was probably the greatest insult Valentine could have ever given him, and something that wouldn't be forgiven. In one fluid motion, Valentine unsheathed Maellartach and with one slim slice, brought the tip of the blade to Simon's cheek.

"Careful revenant, this is a holy weapon that burns unclean creatures such as yourself. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"That I'm glad Clary never got to know you."

Valentine frowned, as if hearing the name from a vampire was offensive. He pressed the blade harder to Simon's throat. Simon hissed in pain, and a if sensing it, Maia opened her eyes in time to see Simon hiss in pain as the blood began to well where the sword was pressing into Simon's neck.

"Leave him alone!" she shouted.

"Father."

Jace moved without thought and reflexively grabbed Valentine's sword arm. Valentine was surprised at the strength of Jace's grip, and when Jace looked into his father's eyes had had seen fury for just a brief moment, before Valentine looked at him with a sympathetic scrutiny. Except Jace knew now that it was a lie; his father was putting on a mask as he tried to study him under a microscope. It filled Jace with anger and a sick kind of fear to be scrutinized so clinically, and like he was a fascinating experiment.

"I see. You care for him, don't tell me this creature has found a place in your heart? No…at the very least, you only care for him because Clarissa cares for him and his death would cause her pain. Again your compassion is admirable."

Jace did not like the way his father spoke, or the way he was looking at him either. It was as though he had just finished puzzling something out, and was surprised at the result. It couldn't be good if said result made him smile in that peculiar way. Jace couldn't figure it out and that filled him with a twisted foreboding.

"However this is not the time for compassion. I cannot spare him or the werewolf. There simply isn't time or room for mistakes." Valentine looked struck by a sudden idea. "Since it will take some time between the two, I can give you a few minutes with one of them, while I take the other."

Jace gaped at him, unable to prevent the noise of shock that vibrated in his body. Valentine was serious, and would not be swayed, not even if he went down on his hands and knees and begged. He was filled with pain; his own father would not stop for anyone or anything, not even his own son. Sure, he wanted Jace with him, but he'd be willing to do whatever it took to get the job done. One look in his father's eyes and he knew this was his father's mission from God.

"Choose."

As if he sensed what Jace had thought, Valentine put a hand his shoulder.

"Temper your compassion Jonathan. This is necessary for our kind to prevail. As the Angel has chosen us, their war has become ours."

Jace felt all hope plummet, chills crashing down his body, as he felt the stain on his soul spread. His eyelids fluttered as if anchored by heavy weights. Jace thought his ribcage was cracking from the strain of disappointment. He felt hurt like this before, like his entire body switched between hot and cold as bitter abandonment tangled itself against his own self-loathing. He wasn't surprised that Valentine was doing this. Deep down, he wasn't surprised at all and that alone intensified the hurt. His own father would never back down and maybe even enjoyed the predicament. Jace knew right then and there that his father would never be what he wanted or needed him to be.

He had made a grave mistake. It would stay with him for the rest of his life. Valentine was forcing him to choose. Jace felt his father's eyes boring into him as he stared at Simon and Maia. Valentine thought he was doing Jace a kindness by letting him choose which one to die first. Jace stared hard; sweat was coating his skin that felt tight and uncomfortable. He swallowed reflexively, struggling to push down the bile that was flooding his throat. Jace had never done this before. Downworlder gone rogue were just as bad as demons, and he'd kill in the heat of battle, but this…

Jace's vision began to spot, blurring the two that were kneeling on the sterile metal of the ship's floor. His head was pounding, stabbing his eyes and nose, making them water. He had to stifle a gasp, his mind whirring; he couldn't show Valentine what he was thinking. The plan began to take distinct shape, swallowing the thickness that he couldn't define. The guilt corroded him, and he felt his face tighten; he didn't know how he looked, but when he bored his gaze into the two of them. Maia shrank away and Jace couldn't blame her. When Simon looked at Jace, he felt fear. Jace buried it deep at his own expense, hoping to God that his mask was good enough for Valentine.

Jace gritted his teeth and shut his eyes tight. He trembled inside, wanting nothing more than to cover his eyes and ears. Jace struggled to wrench away what little comfort he could still fool himself into giving himself; he didn't deserve it. He was going to hell. Deservedly so; Jace spared Valentine only a glance, jerking his head in the direction of Maia.

"Her. Take the werewolf."

Jace willed himself to stare at the scene.

'_Avert not thine eyes.'_

A voice stated in his mind. It sounded like Clary. He had to watch every moment of this, it would be cowardly to look away, and they didn't deserve that. His eyes painted the scene before, forever etched into his memory to haunt him forevermore. Simon was staring at him with incredulous betrayal; Jace vaguely noted that Simon hadn't actually thought Jace was going to go through with it.

'_Guess I'm full of surprises.'_

Jace knew he found a new, truer part of his nature; he got to figure more about himself than he ever wanted to.

_'Like father, like son.' _

He sensed his mouth form the look of bitter elation. At last he could no longer lie to himself, but Simon misinterpreted Jace's expression. For once, Simon actually looked like a vampire. Simon's look of shock and hatred defied description; he was vibrating with emotion, manacles clacking like ominous clapping, as if approving of Simon's righteous fury. He bared his teeth, the fangs gleaming brightly against the stark metal. His accusation filled eyes was louder than a shout and he tore his gaze away from Jace with the utmost disgust. If Jace didn't know any better, he was more than disappointed, he was actually hurt.

"You son of a bitch!" he spat.

Valentine frowned, moving forward and Simon shoved himself between Valentine and Maia, face contorted with protective snarling. Disgust rippled on Valentine's face. For a split second, they both looked so monstrous, Jace couldn't tell who was who anymore. Valentine held the sword tight, thrusting it in between Simon and Maia, like an obscene barrier. Simon eyed it warily. Simon turned to look at Maia, and they stared at one another; Jace felt as if he was intruding. Maia's face was pale, and she was trembling all over. Her eyes were wide and filling up quickly. She was stripped of all dignity.

Jace winced; she wasn't getting to keep that, Valentine wouldn't let her. Maia's breath was coming out in gasps, chest heaving. Her top was straining, skin gleaming feverishly. Her heart was pumping in lusty fear; it knew what was about to happen; her lips quivered as if her heart was going to spill out of them. She was beautiful. She was still beautiful even with the stench of terror, and as Valentine moved closer to unlock her chains, she thrashed away from him, trying to avoid the brush of Valentine's fingers. She grabbed for Simon, gripping his hand tight. He didn't let go, trying to cover her. Valentine moved towards her; Jace was horribly reminded of the faerie tales of babies being taken from their cradles, and he shuddered in revulsion. Valentine's cool expression was frightening and it penetrated Maia's terror stricken face, her open mouth. His large hand was expansive and horribly pale against Maia's curving, writhing body.

"No!" she screamed.

Eyes wide and unfocused, a keening was escaping her teeth; completely devoid of self-control, like an animal in a cage. This was what she was. Her face was a slash of pure, abject terror. She shrieked the word 'no' over and over like a prayer. Simon moved forward, but with an impassive face, Valentine pressed the sword against Simon. It was big enough to cover his neck and a part of his face. The sword hissed as it burned Simon's flesh and blood bubbled beneath the surface of violated skin.

"Simon!" Maia howled.

"Unclean creature. This blade scorches you as surely as the word of God."

Maia's burns ached with empathy. Maia was being hauled to her feet; Maia and Simon were still holding hands, as if glued together and nothing in the universe had the strength to pull them apart. The chains that held Simon strained loudly, their accusation echoing in the tiny room. Valentine pressed the blade harder to Simon, who screamed loudly as steam began to rise from him.

"Leave him alone!" Maia wailed. "Please, please don't do this!"

She continued to beg; struggling more intensely, beginning to curse at them. Simon pulled against his restraints, finally twisting away from the sword; he shouted Maia's name and she was sobbing out his. Valentine finally wrenched her away and she shrieked loud enough to damage hearing. Simon leapt up with a snarl, and Valentine lifted one foot and kicked Simon with enough force to send him flying. As Simon glided through the air, the chains yanked him back with enough force to yank his bones out of his sockets. He hit the metal hard enough for him to vibrate, rivets shaking on impact.

Maia thrashed in Valentine's arms. He could have knocked her out, but he didn't and her pleas left him unmoved. Jace thought Valentine kept her awake simply because she wasn't worth the effort to quiet. Despair at how far his father sunk, was felt equal to the revulsion in Jace's heart. Maia whipped her head around to look at Jace, her curses rebounding as she pleaded with burning eyes.

"Help me. Oh please. Goddamn it help me!"

Maia stretched out her arms to Jace. She had slim arms, like they were made for supplication. She quivered, put onto the rack and ready for the anvil to fall, and ready for the alter. Jace shuddered at the tears streaming down her face, knowing he'd never enter a church again.

Jace was frozen in place, watching Maia's perfect lilt mouth move like a dying fish. There was nothing he could do and he let her curses and pleas wash over him, a tide of deserved pain. Valentine moved forward, swinging Maia around and slinging her over his broad shoulder. Jace vividly remembered when Valentine would sweep him up in his arms, letting Jace have a spectacular view as he rode on his father's shoulders. Jace felt like throwing up.

As Valentine passed the doorway, Maia clung to it with all her might. Her claws had grown out and they were digging into the metal. Her gold eyes met Jace's with an accusation, looking sharp with hysteria. Valentine gave a final tug, yanking Maia with enough force that her claws were left behind in the metal as Maia screamed in pain. Valentine strode out of the room, Maia's screams getting higher and higher as all reason left her forever. Jace could see her struggle as Valentine walked farther down the hall, until they were completely out of sight, but Maia could still be heard. Jace didn't want to be there when her screams stopped. Jace would never forget the sound, even worse than the silence that would come after it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Simon slumped on the floor. Jace didn't blame him. He was amazed at himself for still being able to stand. He had been chained to the spot. Jace felt drained by eternity. It was probably only a few minutes, but it would stretch on forever, on repeat in time. It was a reminder of his sin. Simon turned to Jace; it was another eternity in a second, and when Simon looked at him with eyes full of hate, Jace was glad. Simon was so full of hate he was choking on it, unable to speak for a few moments.

"You…bastard. You sick, fucking bastard."

Jace could only nod. This was true. The pure venom in the voice wasn't enough to deter. Rather, it acted as a stimulant. Jace bent down, stumbling as his fingers trembled. It took him several tries to pull out the knife out of his boot. Simon watched, radiating mistrust; he jutted out his chin, revealing a red bruise, and Jace had an odd thought that Isabelle would be proud of Simon.

"Go on. Stab me. Show Dad how it's done."

Jace didn't answer. He bent down to Simon's level. Simon spat angrily; he missed Jace's face, but he got the edge of his shirt.

"You're disgusting. The worst thing I've ever seen in my life."

Jace's hands fiddled with the chains, prodding and twisting them with the point of his knife. He shivered in the chill of the room and thought of how to word this.

"I know." He struggled to speak. "I know."

The metal was clicking loudly as Jace tried to hurry.

"We haven't got much time. You have to warn the clave-"

"That Valentine's got one more mook on the list?"

"You don't have to believe me."

Simon snorted.

Jace pressed on. "By all means don't. I deserve it-I deserve it all. Just warn the Clave."

"The Clave can screw itself."

"Oh they will. Valentine will make sure of that. At the very least, warn the Lightwoods', Clary-"

"Don't you _dare _talk to me about Clary!" Simon turned to him with livid eyes.

"Ok, ok, but please, I'm begging you-keep them safe. They have to know what Valentine is planning."

The cuffs clicked open, clacking to the floor. Simon rubbed his wrists, eyeing Jace as he watched Jace take off the ones strapped to Simon's ankle. Jace gritted his teeth at the noise the manacles made. He scooted back to give Simon his space as the vampire tested out his freedom. He looked at Jace with disbelief that changed into loathing the longer he looked at Jace.

"This doesn't change anything."

"I know." Jace stood, not daring to offer Simon a hand.

Jace watched Simon rise quickly with a fierce measured look. Simon looked ready to hit Jace, but he didn't mind. He would have let Simon do anything he wanted for as long as he felt like it. Simon seemed to know this, eyes narrowing.

"You think being sorry is gonna cut it? I'd send you to hell myself, but it wouldn't mean much because you wouldn't put up a fight. I hate you and I hate the fact that you aren't resisting, but I'd hate myself for beating up some one who won't fight back." He gave a dark laugh. "I just can't ever hate you fair and square can I?"

Jace tried to smile. "Sure you can. Please, don't forgive. I never will."

There was a loud clang in the cold air of the ship. Both stiffened in fear. Jace swallowed.

"We have to hurry."

Simon stared at him. "What? Just what are you planning?"

"C'mon on, you want to leave right?"

Simon gave him a look, but followed him all the same. Jace remembered the way back to the door leading to the deck. He made sure that Simon was keeping pace, their footsteps making no more sound than a whisper. Jace spoke as they walked.

"Go to the Institute; tell them Valentine is one more away from finishing the ritual. The Hunters were right, Valentine has stumbled onto the devil, which lets face it, is probably more than he can handle. Valentine isn't going to stop. He believes that he is doing God's work and he doesn't care what he has to do in order to get the job done. There is no bribe or bargain they can strike with him."

"So how…?

Jace shuddered. "I wish I knew."

"You know that-"

"I know. I'm a traitor to the Clave, but all the same. I have to warn them. I don't care what happens to me; I'll take whatever punishment gladly, but I need you to do this for me, please."

They reached the top step. Jace felt the door, pushing it open. A shaft of moonlight lit the two of them up, illuminating the luster of their hair and elongating their shadows.

"What about you?" Simon asked.

"I'll buy you time."

Simon didn't look surprised. "So you aren't coming with me?"

"No."

Simon stared at Jace for one long moment, his eyes sharp with thought. Jace realized he hadn't given Simon enough credit for his perceptiveness. He wasn't disappointed when Simon next spoke.

"So you're buying me time will probably involve death."

"Daddy dearest might not like me interfering with his plans."

Simon stared at Jace, his next words more serious than condemning.

"If you really want to make up for what you've done, don't die. That's cheating."

"Fair enough."

Jace walked onto the deck, Simon on his heels. Together they raced forward. Jace pointed to the vampire bike. To his relief, it was right where he left it. It gleamed like a living thing in the moonlight. Jace saw Simon shiver when he looked at it. Jace nodded his head to the bike. Simon looked back at Jace, dark eyes unreadable; there was another weighty pause before Simon asked Jace another question.

"What are you going to do?"

"Improvise."

It was a simple statement said without cockiness and Simon was giving him another searching gaze, this was one unexpectedly filled with something that looked like sadness. Simon didn't look as if he trusted Jace, but he swung his leg over the bike. It growled to life beneath Simon, rumbling as if pleased its rider was a vampire. Simon kicked off, letting the bike shoot forward and hurtle down the bow. Simon put more throttle to the engine, and it roared beneath him as flew into the air. Simon didn't look back as Jace watched him for a moment before going back to the doorway and disappearing back inside the darkness of the ship.

SPNTMI

Simon pounded on the door, the reverberations making his knuckles rattle. The motorcycle stood discarded on the curb as he knocked on the Institute's doors. He slammed with both fists, rang the bell, than pounded the door again. The door was wrenched open just as he was about to knock again. Mayrse Lightwood stood over the threshold, looking anxious. Her face fell as soon as she saw it was him. Simon realized she hoped it was someone else. Next to her, almost close enough to breath down her neck was the Inquisitor. Simon was surprised he hadn't noticed her before; she was staring at him as though he was something stuck to her shoe, but worse.

He could see that behind her were the shadowy forms of who must have been Alec and Isabelle. The tall form of Magnus looming behind them. They were peering anxiously over the shoulders of the two women, and trying to keep Simon's attention. He felt a crashing in his chest; he had no idea how to tell them what happened.

"Well?" she huffed. "What do you want Downworlder?" her voice full of flint.

"Jace." He panted.

Maryse blinked sharply as if splashed with water. She was wire tight, the lines on her face stretched so sharply she didn't look real. It was an incredibly agonizing face and Simon had to stop himself from pulling away from her when she grabbed his shoulders, her hands digging so firmly in place, Simon thought she might actually shatter her fingers. Simon knew she wasn't trying to hurt him, but he winced; Maryse seemed to realize this and she pulled back, and Simon saw the look of someone trying very hard to stay composed.

He ignored the strangely triumphant look on the Inquisitor's face. She looked even more contorted than Maryse, and she was actually disturbing Simon. He ignored the woman and locked eyes with Maryse, and felt a strange prickling all over his body. Maryse's eyes widened and Simon turned to see the sky becoming lighter.

"Hurry, to the Sanctuary."

Maryse led him across a courtyard, and Simon noted at one time the Institute really had been a church. They passed a bench overgrown with vines and flowers. Maryse opened a large slab-like door that was rusting at the edges, it screamed loudly in protest when it was pushed open. Simon winced; Maia's screams were fresh in his ears. He followed Maryse as she rapidly descended the passageway. It was dark, and a small part of Simon was relieved for it.

It led to a large circular room. Pillars surrounded the center and in the center itself was a large pillar. The ceiling was large, doming when it finally closed in. The room was more spacious than it looked, but Simon was feeling oddly claustrophobic. The cleanliness of the marble pillars hurt his eyes.

A loud slam made him jump. A staircase leading to a door was the source. The door had burst open and revealed The Inquisitor, looking very aggrieved at having to follow Maryse. Following closely was Isabelle and Alec. Magnus descended the stairs slower, looking no more pleased than anyone else. An imposing man who Simon assumed was Isabelle and Alec's father loomed behind them. In fact they all looked distressed. Most distressed of all was someone who was behind Magnus, someone with red hair. Clary was staring wide eyed at Simon, and quite possibly with relief.

"Simon!" Isabelle shouted.

Simon blinked at the almost frantic cry; it wasn't like Isabelle to get worked up over things, but she pushed past the Inquisitor, whose lip curled when Isabelle pushed past her to get to Simon's side.

"What is this place?" Simon asked.

Isabelle waved her hands, as if hurrying to banish the question away. Alec however answered.

"It's a part of the Institute that was deliberately left an unconsecrated ground. It's for people who need to speak to Shadowhunters but can't get inside the Institute. We don't use this room much anymore."

"What about Jace?" Maryse sharply asked.

The group tensed, like hunting dogs on point. The air was charged and all their eyes were on Simon. He felt like a stage light was burning his skin. He had no idea how to say what he had to say.

"We don't know where he is!" cried Isabelle. "He gave Magnus the slip."

Magnus scowled at that, but he elaborated. "He is somewhere where I cannot track him."

The Inquisitor looked as if she were gloating; her face pale and hollow and Simon shuddered.

"So he must be by a body of water." Alec reasoned.

Simon tried to hold back the painful spasm on his face; Magnus seemed to understand where this was headed, and he looked at Alec with saddened eyes. Simon was selfishly glad that he wasn't the only person who had figured it out. He tried to avoid the Inquisitor's gaze, feeling the weight of the truth slamming down on him. He wished the truth wasn't so painful to say. He was confused why he didn't wanted to gleefully shout about what Jace had done, but the somber, worried faces of a family kept the words from coming out.

"He is." Simon choked out.

"Where?!" Isabelle shouted.

He flinched, but the undivided attention wouldn't let up. He struggled to let the words out, but if he anyone cared, he didn't notice. He took a shuddery breath.

"He's on-"

"The pier. On Valentine's ship to be precise." The Inquisitor cut in.

Her voice was like razors, gleefully cutting. The Lightwoods' stared at her, disbelieving. She seemed to revel in their shock, and as if she had been rehearsing for this very moment, pulled something out of her pocket. It was a tiny glimmering shard. It looked like it was reflecting a piece of meadow. Simon heard Clary give a little gasp of recognition. The Inquisitor didn't let anyone speak, she was more than happy to explain herself.

"Yes this is the portal, frozen in mirror form. I know all about its significance to Jonathan, and I knew it wouldn't be far from his person. So I had made a copy. I simply switched the two, and put a tracking rune on it. I saw everything." Her eyes gleamed with something poisonous. "Jonathan Morgenstern is as guilty of treason as his father."

"What?! How dare you?!" Isabelle sputtered with rage. "Jace is nothing like that horrible-

"Explain." Maryse's taunt face jutted out.

"He was helping his father carry out the Ritual of Infernal Conversion."

The Inquisitor's face was like a jack o' lantern, horribly contorted with amusement and rage. The combination was the strangest thing Simon had ever seen, and it was gloating when it stated the facts. She turned to Simon, and he fought the urge to bare his teeth at her.

"I believe the vampire knows. He witnessed the whole thing; that other sad downworlder being dragged away screaming. As I recall, it was Jonathan who chose her to die first."

"Shut up!" screamed Isabelle.

Isabelle grabbed Simon by the shoulders; her grip was a strong as her mothers'. She was shaking Simon hard enough to make his teeth rattle. Alec gently pried her away, but she took no notice, still staring at Simon, challenging him to contradict the Inquisitor, but at the same time she looked very vulnerable. Alec was staring at Simon with flashing eyes, and Simon had never seen him look so desperate before.

"It's not true, Simon, it can't be true." Isabelle insisted.

Simon didn't want his words to be twisted by the Inquisitor, who would never say that Jace had changed his mind. Without wanting to, Simon recalled the look of anguish as he watched Jace watch his father carry Maia away. He truly did feel guilty about what he had done. Simon did not want to admit it, but the torture was clear on Jace's face when he was in that room. He'd never forget, just as much as Simon knew he wouldn't.

It almost seemed like a violation that the Inquisitor would get to see their pain, get some chance to control it, and make the story hers. Simon cringed, now knowing that she was watching and hadn't done anything about it, no call for reinforcements to save them all. He was abruptly angry.

"Well didn't you hear us?" he asked her.

The Inquisitor scoffed. "Obviously not, but it is more than clear he is guilty. I saw enough."

"Really?" Simon asked.

They all watched as the two of them spoke; it was almost like a tennis match, words going back and forth. Maryse looked like she wanted to step in. The Inquisitor began to speak again.

"Tell the truth vampire, or I can force it out of you. Don't forget, that I am the might of the Clave and you are just a downworlder."

Simon thought he had felt enough of helplessness, but apparently it wasn't through with him yet. He nodded, and their reactions were terrible. Isabelle shouted at him, flinging curses like they were heavy objects and Alec's jaw was locked tight, Maryse had closed her eyes and for a brief seconded looked like the most defeated person in the world. Simon did not want to face Clary's reaction. He tried to protest, on behalf of Jace, even though he was angry at himself for doing so. The Inquisitor battered his defenses away as he tried to speak for Jace. She pried the truth out of him mercilessly, as if she wielded a large crowbar.

People suddenly began to speak all at once, and they deafened Simon, his vampire hearing shoving the words into his ears. Isabelle had to be held back by her mother, who was being berated for her lack of control over her children. Alec would not let Magnus touch him as he demanded details of what had happened, quietly furious. Simon jumped when he felt someone brush up against him. It was Clary, and she was also looking at him with desperation. He wanted to scream at her to stop looking at him like that, but he reined it in. She stared so deeply into his eyes that he shivered, wishing it was for a different reason.

"Is it true?" there was no wavering in her voice.

Simon wanted to hold her in his arms. She looked so delicate, like some piece of china flame. So pale and slim, but he had to resist. He bowed his head, and heard her sharp deep intake of breath. He wanted to reassure her, but there wasn't much he could do.

"He didn't want to. I realized it the second he walked into that room. Valentine made him choose which one to…take first."

"So…Maia is dead?"

"…Yeah. Valentine needs only one downworlder left to complete the ritual. Jace helped me escape. I'd be dead if he hadn't done that."

"We tried to find him. Magnus called me, and I wish I let-" Clary had to say something else. "So, anyway, I called Luke and we looked, and he called the Hunters. They came with us, but the Inquisitor wouldn't let them in. The Inquisitor even said '"A mundane is no match for even the lowest downworlder. It's simply not possible."' She barely let Luke get in."

"Luke is here? I didn't see him."

"He's in the back; nothing could have kept him out." Clary gave Simon a wobbly smile. "I think he's going to tell the hunters about what's going on when we leave. They're probably still outside."

"Yeah probably." Simon felt too weak to smile.

They stared at each other, the sounds of the chaos surrounding them was fading away. Simon wished it was just them, and Clary nodded her head even though he hadn't said a word.

"Silence!" bellowed the Inquisitor.

Amazingly, this did silence them.

"I know exactly what is going on. From this moment on, I am assuming command on the grounds that the Lightwoods are unfit to run this Institute. You have allowed downworlders and even mundanes inside these walls, letting them do as they please, dictating terms to us, and daring to think they know better than the law! That is not only proof enough of your staggering incompetence, but that you have most certainly been in collusion with Valentine!"

"Absurd!" roared Robert Lightwood. "Where is the proof?!"

"I'll tell you!" the Inquisitor shouted. "In fact, I think I can fill in the gaps quite nicely. It goes like this: Valentine and his followers had planned their uprising so well, that even if it failed, there would always be someone to carry it on. Those followers were you. You have never abandoned Valentine, but instead faked their surrender, accepting exile to win back the graces of the Clave. When Valentine sent Jonathan here to you, he knew you would raise him as a spy, loyal only to him. So that he could cripple the Clave up from under itself. A perfect little weapon, only I have figured it out."

This was met with outrage of the loudest kind, as all the Lightwoods protested. Simon could finally see Luke, and he was gazing at the Inquisitor with pity.

"Imogen, please be reasonable. Whatever happened on the ship, it's clear that Valentine is the problem. I know what happened with Stephen was-"

"Be quiet!" she thundered back. "That has no bearing on this situation, werewolf! Valentine is an irredeemable monster, as you know full well." She sneered at Luke.

Simon felt Clary tremble next to him, but she said nothing, her green eyes hard as jewels as she stared at the Inquisitor with loathing.

"There is only one remedy for this. I will call the Clave, reinforcements will be brought and we will attack Valentine's ship. Jonathan Morgenstern will be arrested on the spot, if he is cooperative. That is his best outcome, since taking him alive might not be possible."

Maryse looked fierce and sickened, more so than the rest of the Lightwoods and she seemed to be the only one left with the power to speak, but her voice was drowned out by the Inquisitor.

"At the time of his arrest, he will be dealt with, as will all of you. I will order a full investigation into this family and its poor excuse for an institute." She stared at them all with burning eyes. "Now, call for reinforcements at once! We will make an assault on the Morgenstern's' as soon as the Conclave arrives!"

"Imogen-" Luke tried to speak.

"Inquisitor." She intoned. "Leave immediately. You have no business here, and neither do those mundanes that came with you. If any of them, or you, tries to interfere in Nephilim business again, I will put blades to all of you." She rounded on Magnus. "You, however, your services are required. I know for a fact Valentine will have put powerful wards around his ship. You will strip them down, and I will not tolerate a refusal."

Magnus smiled tightly, and seemed to gather himself. "Well when you put it that way, I am more than happy to be of assistance." He didn't seem able to come up with a wittier remark.

"We will discuss the battle plans when the reinforcements arrive." The Inquisitor motioned for the Shadowhunters to follow her back upstairs.

The entire time that the Inquisitor had been speaking she had progressively begin to sound deranged. It was clear however, that she was in charge and as Luke began to leave, Simon realized something.

"Wait, I can't go out there-sunlight."

Simon was glad that it was Maryse who addressed him; she only spared the Inquisitor a small glance before speaking to Simon.

"You can stay here until the sun sets, then I would return home if I were you."

Simon nodded quickly. "I will. Thanks for letting me stay Mrs. Lightwood."

Amazingly, that seemed to earn him a small smile. It was gone as quickly as it came. She followed her husband and she squeezed his hand as they began to walk up the steps. They ignored Luke, who grabbed a hold of Magnus's arm and was speaking to him in low tones; there was a small flash of what could have been a cell phone, but Simon couldn't be sure. Their conversation was brief and intense, and they moved in opposite directions. Magnus reluctantly walked up the stairs with the rest of the Lightwoods', and Luke went to the two of them, putting a hand on Clary's shoulder.

"I want to stay here with Simon." She said immediately.

"Clary-" Simon began.

"No, I don't want you to be here alone."

"I'll be ok. Really."

"Simon let me do this, please."

Luke didn't look surprised at Clary's insistence and his grip on her shoulder tightened. Simon nodded; he knew Clary wouldn't back down. The three walked back into the corridor. Luke was grim faced, and it made Simon long for the old days when he couldn't imagine Luke ever looking like that. They moved out of sight; the others had departed and they were left alone, but Luke didn't seem to want to take chances. Simon and Clary traded looks; they waited for Luke to say what he had to.

"I spoke to Magnus. He'll let us know what's going on."

"You're going to help?" Clary asked.

Luke shrugged. "You want to right? You are going to try and rescue Jace." It was a statement. "If you insist on doing something reckless, you won't be doing it without me."

Clary quickly wrapped her arms around Luke and gripped tight. "Thank you."

Luke shrugged, as if rescuing captives and assaulting villains was normal. "No big deal. I had a feeling you'd try to pull some sort of stunt."

Clary's laugh was muffled by Luke's heavy jacket. "So now what?"

"We wait then when they make their plan, we go with it." Simon said.

"Wait." Clary turned her head to look at Simon. "We?"

"Yeah. We. Clary, did you seriously think I wasn't going to come with?"

"It'll be dangerous!"

"It's been dangerous for a long time now. You're going aren't you?"

"Of course."

"Then there's nothing left to talk about."

The firmness in Simon's voice surprised him; he knew she felt guilty for how his life had gone topsy-turvy, but he didn't care, not when she was standing so close to him. Simon didn't blame her in the slightest and he willed his thoughts to her. Clary nodded once, her eyes suspiciously bright. The air felt charged, and Simon felt the odd wellspring of understanding, and he knew he was on the urge of figuring something out. Luke gently disentangled himself from Clary, and began to speak again.

"I'll better get going. I'll pick you guys up at sunset; it'll take at least all day for the reinforcements to arrive and I have a feeling that when The Conclave will get here, it won't take long for them to prepare to mount an assault on Valentine's ship." He became very serious. "If you insist on fighting, then stay close to me. Don't deviate from the plan we make, because it'll have to coincide with the Clave's. Magnus will call with the details when he gets the plan, since he is such a big part of it."

"I take it you are going to get weapons?" Simon asked.

"Yes, and to talk to those hunters." he shook his head, almost smiling. "Those people are a determined bunch. They'll be there, I'm sure of it, so the more numbers all the better for us."

"I've got Jo's number, and I can let her know what's going on." Simon volunteered.

"Ok."

Luke gave them both fleeting smiles before walking out the door; Simon shielded by Clary when the light spilled out between the cracks. Clary didn't move even after Luke shut he door; Simon breathed in her scent. She gently clung to him, more of an embrace than anything else. He felt a painful bliss when she stayed this close, her hair tickling his neck. He was very close to figuring something out.

"Clary let out a breath. " So…"

"So."

"I take it, you'll tell me this is stupid?" she asked.

"Why?"

"Because Jace might be a traitor?" her voice so hesitant and soft, it gave him pause.

"You think there is some truth to it?"

Clary gave a little shrug. "Maybe. I thought because of the way he was raised, he might not want to, but…" she sighed. "You know when you told me about not being able to trust he person you loved, and how painful it was for you? Well it hurt me to hurt you, even if I didn't mean it. Now that I know how that feels, it's a wonder that you don't hate me." She sounded almost close to tears. "With my mother, Jace, and you-I keep hurting everyone I love."

"I don't hate you, and I know Jace doesn't. He feels the same. He made a mistake, and he knew it, and it was painful for him. I'm not lying to protect you, but I think he just-"he broke off. "I don't know why I'm defending him. He was the cause of Maia's death, and it kills me, to know that whenever he gets hurt, it'll hurt you. So I don't think I can forgive him, no matter how sorry he is. I know you probably don't want to here this, because you love him."

Clary inhaled sharply. "I'm sorry. Its wrong, but…" She pressed herself harder to him, and he wrapped his arms around her. "I do. I don't expect you to forgive him, I'm having a hard time thinking about what he did, but maybe I can still have faith in him, in the way I do with you. I think, we've all done the same things to each other, so maybe we'll hurt each other less now." She sounded so hopeful. "I'm sorry for putting you through so much."

"I don't mind." He was surprised at how much he meant it. "Really. Have faith in him, I'll always love you, no matter who you love." He kissed the top of her head.

"I've always wanted-"she broke off. "Why are you telling me all this?"

Simon blinked. "Because it's true."

"I know. It just feels like you're saying goodbye." A thought came to her. "You know, Valentine needs vampire's blood to finish the ritual, and if you go on that ship…"

"I know, but that doesn't matter. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

"When we get there, don't leave my sight."

SPNTMI

Waiting for sunset didn't feel long enough. Simon never felt so peaceful before when Clary was in his arms. He wanted to pretend that it was just the two of them, and no danger and they would be together forever. The time for pretending was over, and they reluctantly moved apart when Clary's phone buzzed, letting her know Luke was there. She flipped her phone open, reading the text that she had gotten.

"Looks like the Clave finished making the plans, and Luke's just waiting for us so he can tell everyone."

They picked themselves off the floor, and opened the door. Simon breathed deep; the cool air sharpened his senses even further. The fight was almost there, looming over the horizon. He realized he should probably be more nervous, but when so many people would around him, he could only feel nervous for them. Luke was waiting for them with his blue pick up truck, and he nodded for them to hurry. He was the only one there. Simon turned to look back at the Institute, it looked very forbidding and he could just picture the business going on inside it.

Wordlessly, they climbed into the truck's cab and Luke drove half a block away and pulled into a parking lot. The only cars that were parked there was the black Impala, and a large red and brown truck. It was newer looking than Luke's and Clary knew that even with her limited car knowledge that it was a different type. Everyone was milling about, waiting for them. Simon followed Clary as she clambered out of the truck before him.

Clary watched Dean and Sam pull things out of their trunk, and Cas was handling their blades with a look of concentration. She saw Jo standing next to an older woman who could only have been her mother. Simon walked to them, and Clary followed. She felt suddenly shy as Simon introduced Clary to Jo's mother, and Simon began to talk a bit shyly himself.

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Harvelle." He said.

"Ellen will do just fine." She regarded him easily. "I heard about what happened at the hotel."

"Jo was amazing." Simon quickly said. "She saved my life, as bad as it was, she really had it covered. I would have been dead. So…I hope you're not mad about me putting her in danger-" his eyes were wide and soft.

Clary marveled at Simon's near supernatural power to make anyone's mother like him.

Ellen roughly ruffled Simon's hair. "No worries kid. Much as I don't like her hunting, she's got a straight head. I knew she'd never leave anyone behind, I ain't mad at you, but those shadow people for allowing something so dangerous to be in their backyards'."

Luke stepped in easily and introduced himself. Clary thought she might have been too nervous when she first got there. It seemed everyone was going to get along just fine, and the air was charged with a businesslike energy. Only Simon and she seemed out of their element. Weapons were being passed around, with Cas softly stroking the blades, and Clary saw that when he did that, runes and sigils appeared on their surfaces. He was explaining quickly.

"This script will weaken the ancients that we will undoubtedly face. It will prevent them from reforming themselves. They are not to be underestimated; many of them are poisonous on top of having incredible speed and strength."

Luke nodded. "I have some weapons in the trunk."

Luke's cell phone beeped. He flipped it open and read the message quickly.

"Magnus says to meet him by the waterfront. They plan on bringing their own boats and take Valentine's ship when Magnus has taken down the wards protecting the ship." He snapped the phone shut. "I'll lead the way."

The Hunters nodded.

"We'll be able to assist them. Magnus knows a way for us to board the ship with them."

"How?"

"By using a spell. He wasn't specific,"

Dean suppressed a groan, but nodded all the same.

"We should get going."

Clary watched as Sam, Dean, and Cas got in the Impala. Jo followed Ellen into their truck and Clary followed Simon and Luke back into the pickup. The two other cars followed Luke's, making the three cars turn down the streets at a frantic pace. Clary felt that she was a part of some weird low budget war movie. She shuddered, her body unable to keep calm. She didn't think it would be like this, always wondering when the fight would end, and if it didn't, would she ever get used to it?

Clary reached for Simon's hand. It felt cool and it made goosebumps rise on her arms. That didn't stop her from squeezing tight and she welcomed the pressure when he squeezed back.

SPNTMI

The waterfront was deserted; there were no sounds of workmen. No shouting or the loud sounds of machinery or trucks. Clary wasn't used to the silence, it was creepy. Water lapped at the docks, concrete dark where water splashed. The darkening sky made the water look foreboding and filled with danger. Clary couldn't help but peer out onto the river, wondering what they were going to face. All she had was her mother's stele. She touched the burn on her forearm; it felt good to her fingertips to trace its pattern.

All around her, everyone unlocked their doors and began to gear up. Clary stared. Sam and Dean wore flannel as naturally as Luke did. There was none of the tough black material Shadowhunters wore. It wasn't as sophisticated, but they carried themselves in a similar manner. It was obvious that they had done this before. Offers of spare machetes or holy water were passed around. Clary watched as Dean slipped knife after knife onto his body, and Sam showing Cas how to load a shotgun. Ellen was swapping large blades with Jo; Clary felt an unexpected strain of jealousy. Clary could have had that with Jocelyn, but her mother never bothered to show her, or talk about. This was something they could never share and the desperate longing surprised Clary. Just because she disliked fighting, didn't mean she couldn't learn…

"Here."

Clary turned and Luke pressed a large knife in her hand. He looked regretful. His hands still clasped hers, showing her how to hold it properly, and his arms swung hers in quick arcs and jabs. Luke didn't have to speak, and Clary was grateful that he didn't. As he gave her a belt and strapped in a set of daggers, Clary could see Simon getting a similar lesson from Jo. Clary glanced away, and stared back at Luke, who was looking at her with a wistful expression.

"I'm going against your mother's wishes, but…" he sighed. " You look so much like Jocelyn right now."

Clary wished he didn't sound that way and for a moment, nothing would relieve it. If only she knew a way to let him know it wasn't his fault.

"Is that Magnus?" Simon asked.

Clary turned. The tall figure was indeed familiar, but she could see why no one could make him out right away. Magnus was not wearing one of his usual flamboyant outfits, but a somber looking frock coat with black pants. There was no glitter or jewelry, and let left his hair down.

"Huh." Dean murmured. "Left Michael Jackson at home then?"

No one else said anything as Magnus strode to them and he was looking unusually grim, but Clary couldn't help questioning his appearance.

"No glitter?"

There was a ghost of a smile on his face.

"Not quite apropos my dear." He turned to Luke. "Now, I need to borrow your truck." He pointed to Ellen. "And yours too."

"Mine?"

"Yes. Since we have no boats we'll have to improvise."

Dean shifted protectively in front of the impala. This earned a smirk from Magnus.

"Relax, yours is too small for what I have in mind."

Dean looked as if he couldn't decide to be relieved or offended. Magnus continued.

"I'll put a spell on the two trucks. This will make them be able to drive on the water. One truck will be for me. I can't physically go onto the ship to take down the defenses Valentine has put up. They are incredibly strong and can only be stripped from a distance. That's the only support I'll be able to give you. The other truck will go with the shadowhunter boats. It's up to you which car you'll decide to go in."

"Will you need a lot of cover?" Ellen asked.

"Honestly I think I can handle it. It'll be up to the rest of you to destroy the demons on the ship. The shadowhunters will have their hands full."

"We'll leave you to it. What do you need from us?" Ellen asked again.

"Just your best."

Ellen nodded and Magnus quickly set to work on the trucks, chalking pentagrams and their accompanying runes onto them. They gleamed faintly and Magnus placed a hand on each truck and began to chant. The markings looked brighter as the blue sparks frantically burst and showered the two cars. Dean and Jo shouted as Sam and Ellen jumped back. Simon whistled, which earned a smile from Luke. Only Cas didn't react, albeit a slight widening of the eyes.

Clary's heart was beating double time, and she knew she wouldn't forget this for as long as she lived, even if her life happened to only last a few more hours. As the spell finished, the wind died down and Magnus looked usual self again. He faced the group again.

"Follow me."

Magnus gestured to Luke's truck.

"Here you are."

"Thank you." Luke said.

"Don't thank me yet. You still have to get on the ship." Magnus replied.

Luke smiled grimly. "True enough."

"Alright, if you want to board the ship, get in Mrs. Harvelle's car." Magnus said.

They all moved to Ellen's car. Clary, Luke, and Simon followed each other into the passenger seat as Jo hurried to grab shot gun. Dean gave Cas a nudge to get into the backseat as well, with Sam getting inside last.

"Well this won't be awkward at all." He grunted as he was pressed in between Cas and Sam.

Simon wriggled in his seat as everyone crammed together. Clary started to tell Simon about the time everyone had been shoved into the elevator at the institute, making Jo laugh. There was enough room for Luke to be in the very back, where the weapons were stored, but even with that, it was very hard to maneuver around next to all the piles of weapons.

"Let's get this show on the road then." Ellen said.

The mood sobered and they didn't speak as Ellen began to drive beside Magnus and off the pavement and into the water. Clary listened to Dean's sharp intake of breath, and Clary couldn't blame him. This was one of the strangest things that had ever happened to her, which from the way her life had been going, was saying a lot. Clary twisted back in her seat to see Luke smile at her.

The wheels didn't sink as they spun forward sending up sprays of water. Clary watched the water ripple, imagining hideous monsters lurking beneath the surface, waiting to drag them all down into the dark water. She shuddered, but somehow it was better than thinking about Jace.

Her brother, who in fact could be a traitor in the Clave's eyes for 'siding' with Valentine. She didn't want it to be true, but she remembered how he looked that night at Renwick's', the way Valentine taunted Jace on just how to kill him. Deep down, Clary could understand why Jace would want to go see his father, but what Valentine did had no justifications and Jace knew that…right? Clary didn't know anymore, she just kept thinking in circles. What she needed was Jace, to talk to him…

"Hey."

Clary blinked. Simon's hand was holding a firm grip on her shoulder. It felt like an anchor and Clary smiled weakly back.

"It'll be okay."

Clary stared hard at Simon. She saw trust and confidence in his eyes, the full force of his feelings for her were clear. It made her want to live up to his expectations. She knew Jace looked at her in the same way, and in a sense that made them have something in common. It went full circle. Clary covered the hand that was grasping her shoulder with such soft pressure. They couldn't go back to the way things were, but maybe that was a good thing. Clary leaned on him, catching the shimmer of his eyes.

"We'll find him."

The two nodded in unison. The truck began to slow. Clary watched eagerly out the window and stared in shock. Small dark boats, more like skiffs, were gliding through the water towards a looming ship. The shadowhunters had Valentine's ship surrounded. Magnus pulled up next to them, leaning his head out the window as he cut the ignition.

"This is as far as I go. Try not to die."

"Same to you." Ellen called.

Ellen sped the car up and Clary managed to catch watch Magnus shouted after her.

"I don't know what I'll do with your car if you do!"

Clary shivered when she heard Ellen's gruff laugh. Her car gathered a bit more speed as they shrank away from Luke's pickup. Clary bit her lip and tore her gaze away from Magnus and looked forward. Simon gave a sharp inhale of breath almost in unison with Jo. Clary looked at him in askance, and he pointed. Clary squinted and then gasped. She poked her head out the window, and it was cold enough that she could watch her breath puff out and spiral up into the air. The stars gleamed against a black sky that looked soft as velvet. The skyline was bright and expansive, and if she listened hard enough, she could hear the sounds of the city. A crescent moon hung in the sky, and by its light she could make out the sleek shadowhunter boats that surrounded them. They were completely silent and Clary grimaced at all the noise the truck was making. It even looked bulky against the graceful shadowhunter's vessels.

Clary wondered if the shadowhunters could see them that well; she knew Simon's vampire eyes were sharper than hers, but tonight, her senses felt just as good. Maybe because this night could very well be her last, but she needed to think about the others who were beside her, trying to bring Valentine to justice.

Clary took a deep breath. Both Luke and Simon give her looks of concern, but Clary shook her head. A small rapping sound made her jump. Dean had knocked on the windows, and was now motioning her for weapons. When the truck stopped, Clary picked up sawed off shotguns and Luke flinched away when the silver was grabbed, but helped Clary pass weapons back and forth. Simon exchanged a smile with Jo as he passed her a flask of holy water.

Ellen angled the car and Clary saw the ladder on the side of the hull. Shadowhunter vessels were angling by it too, pressing close to the car. Clary could actually see the looks of shock on the faces of the shadowhunters.

"Everybody got enough?" Ellen asked.

"Yeah I think we're good" Sam replied.

"Be on guard." Cas instructed.

"Yeah yeah." Dean grumbled.

They had to struggle to get aboard, shoved aside by shadowhunter boats. Dean gave a few quick hand signals that Clary vaguely recognized from television that they were military. Clary shivered, but kept quiet as she felt the weight of the knives strapped to her as she scooted to the right, trying to keep her balance. She looked down; there were at least a couple of inches of water between the car and the ladder. Clary looked up to see dark shapes shifting above her. Shadowhunter boarding the ship, she lowered her gaze to see Dean move forward, reaching to grab the ladder. Clary moved to let him go first.

Clary watched Sam climb up the ladder and his silence surprised her. He seemed different now-in his hunter mode. Dean went next, and behind him was Cas, his trench coat flapping as the angel climbed after the brothers. Jo was next, grabbing the dark rungs quickly as Ellen followed closely behind. Clary watched in interest. If they could do it, so could she. Clary could feel Simon behind her, and she gritted her teeth. It took her a few tries to grab the ladder. It was cold and slippery and she nearly lost her balance. Heart pounding, Clary climbed carefully, breathing evenly. She reached the top, hands holding a death grip on the railing. Clary swung one leg over the side, wobbling and nearly tumbling over the edge. She gasped and Sam grabbed her arm and below her Simon put one hand on her other thigh. Clary didn't have time to react as Sam hauled her up and over the side. He nodded to her, and together they pulled Simon up. Luke didn't need assistance as he hauled himself onto the deck.

Shadowhunters surrounded them with looks of confusion and hostility. They stared at the motley group of Downworlders, hunters, and Clary.

"What are you doing here?!" one hissed

Dean opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off. Luke put a hand on Dean's shoulder, urging for silence. The shadowhunters, clad in black, looked like pieces of the night sky, torn from where they were meant to be. They stiffened slightly, like hunting dogs on point. It was done so collectively, that it was as if they were actually one person rather than a group. Clary shuddered. They seemed invincible, but she knew that couldn't be true…

"Well, I'd bid you welcome, but you have all been rather rude."

The shadowhunters braced for an attack as Valentine stood before them, and who was next to him was-

"Jace!" Isabelle shrieked.

Next to Valentine, Jace seemed small and soft beside his father, who was sure and broad. Clary could see what Simon meant when he told her that Jace regretted what he had done; the cool mask that Jace wore had cracks, the anguish peeking out from beneath it. Clary stared hard and Jace only met her gaze for a moment, but he look he gave her made her whole body clench. His eyes were a burning color, dark embers of pain. Clary wanted to move, but her feet wouldn't let her as Isabelle shouted again for Jace's attention. Jace didn't bother to answer either girl. Maryse was pulling Isabelle back, her face tight and she stared down Valentine, her body rigid with fury. Alec was looked oddly blank, staring at Jace. The Inquisitor pushed her way through the crowd of shadowhunters that had begun to surround Valentine and Jace.

"I commend you all on your tenacity. My ship is well guarded. "Valentine smiled.

"Not well enough." Maryse said.

Valentine shrugged. "At any rate, this is as far as you go. My son and I will stop you."

Isabelle let out a tiny sound. "Jace…please…"

Valentine smirked, eyes moving between Jace and the rest of the shadowhunters. Jace's face had gone completely white, and there was something desperate in his eyes. He tried to speak, but nothing seemed to come out. Valentine's smile grew bigger and Clary wanted to leap over and strangle him.

"Well, Jonathan, I believe Maryse's daughter has something to say to you. It is rude not to answer her."

Clary's fury doubled. Valentine was taunting Jace again, something no father should, or would do. Jace turned to his father once, and he closed his eyes, pain marring his features, fling over them as Jace slumped his shoulders. For a fraction of a second he looked as though he might collapse. Something was happening to him as he sighed and straightened up and exhaled slowly. His eyes fluttered open, and Clary could have sworn she saw tears. He looked weak and strong at the same time, and to Clary that was oddly beautiful. Jace looked briefly back to Valentine before moving forward and he opened his mouth to speak. Before anyone could react, with only the sound of blowing fabric to let them know what happened, the Inquisitor stood before Jace, a silver blade pressed into his neck.

"JACE!" Isabelle screamed. "What the hell are you doing?!" she shouted at the Inquisitor.

"Be quiet little girl!" the Inquisitor snarled.

"Don't speak to my daughter like that Imogen." Maryse said tightly.

The Inquisitor pressed the blade harder to Jace's neck, and Jace winced. Clary sucked in a breath, and Dean grimaced even harder. The Inquisitor's arms were wrapped around Jace's shoulders, her hands in a claw like grip. Jace was effectively pinned and he froze, unable to move anything except his eyes. His eyes were dark, but somehow elated. As though he was happy to be threatened and the expression made Clary shiver. The Inquisitor's eyes bulged in her face, which stood out from the rest of her pale, pointed face and made her look like a cartoon super villain. Her fingers curled into talons and she kept a steady grip on her weapon. She shot Valentine a look of demented triumph.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself Morgenstern? I have your son."

"That you do, but I wouldn't underestimate him if I were you."

"Don't you understand?!" The Inquisitor shrieked. "Your child's life is in my hands?!"

Valentine's voice was calm. "True enough. I take it that you want something from me?"

"Very astute of you. Give me the mortal instruments and I'll give you your son back. If not, I'll slit his throat where I stand."

Valentine merely raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

The Inquisitor sneered. "Don't think I won't."

"Oh, I have no doubts of your intentions."

The Inquisitor's face turned from incredulous to horrified, before morphing into murderous.

"So…you will let your child die…instead of giving-"

"I could have told you that." Jace croaked.

"But…" The Inquisitor sputtered. "How-"

Valentine laughed. "I understand this is a difficult concept for you, but children have to make their own decisions."

The Inquisitor turned purple. "But-"

"Jonathan-"

Valentine never got to finish as the leathery wings of a demon descended onto the Inquisitor. Its powerful wings battered Jace, its scales cutting into his face. The Inquisitor thrashed as black talons raked across her, trying to grab her. Jace pulled away, stumbling back as the Inquisitor gasped, her teeth stained red. The creature was huge, saurian in size and scaly. Its eyes were on the sides of its head, jet black and opaque. Its long snout was like a pelican's beak and filled to the brim with serrated teeth. Its snout battered the Inquisitor, teeth scissoring up and down on her flesh. The Inquisitor slashed at the demon, her arm blurring with motion, becoming more frantic as the creature used it weight to keep the Inquisitor boxed in. Its talons seized the Inquisitor, clamping down. The crunch of bones, the stark whiteness jutting out of mutilated flesh. The Inquisitor screamed, eyes rolling in her head as her body heaved. The winged creature lifted her up, and the Inquisitor's blood cascaded onto the deck as she was hauled up into the air. The Inquisitor's blade clattered to the ground as she screamed, but her cries were drowned out by screeches. There was a crunch, snapping, squishing, and squelching. A small thump was heard as a bloody lump hit the deck, and a much larger lump fell. It was the Inquisitor. She was dead. She was vivisected, her organs peeking out beneath stained clothes, and she was missing her head.

The world exploded as ancients and demons burst onto the scene. A multitude of creatures coming at them from all sides, the creatures with fangs, tusks, claws racing towards the crowd of shadowhunters, who braced themselves for the onslaught. A six legged horse creature with a skeleton astride it charged, its rusted sword pointed straight at them. Dean shot at it and it shrieked in pain, still running towards him. Dean held his ground, shooting it again.

"Come on you son of a bitch!" Dean shouted.

Valentine laughed and Clary made a grab for her knife, but a demon with leather wings and long claws swooped low, obscuring her view of Valentine. She screamed as the creature tried to claw her face, and Jace's shouts were murky to her ears. Suddenly, Simon was there and he charged at the flying demon, snarling as he crashed on top of it and began to punch it wildly. The thing bellowed in anger as Simon drew blood, his hands wet with the dark color and it thrashed, its wings buffeting Clary about as she tried to reach Simon, who was gripping the monster tight as it tried to throw him off. Clary flinched when Simon struggled to sink his teeth into the grey hide. Blood spurted between the gaps in Simon's teeth as he clung tenuously to the demon. A sudden shout made Clary jump, and the sounds came rushing back. She realized that she had just been standing there, knife limp in her hand, staring at the space she was sure Jace used to be at. Someone shoved her, and she didn't have time to react as another demon burst out, attacking the shadowhunter who knocked her aside. Clary didn't recognize the board shouldered man who plunged a seraph blade into the demon that gored its tusks into the man as they simultaneously killed each other. Clary blinked, and spun around-Simon.

Clary gripped her knife tight and raced to Simon. She yelled, feeling the sound rip through her throat as she jumped onto the demon. Plunging the blade deep in the creature's eye sockets, brackish fluid gushed onto Clary's hands and made the handle of her seraph blade slippery. The demon gurgled, its blood bubbled in time with its death rattle. It stopped moving and Clary gasped when she felt the beast go still beneath her. She had trouble looking at Simon, and she flinched when she saw the blood smeared all over his face. His eyes were still fierce and she resisted the urge to back away, but the words that came out of her surprised her with the ease in which they came out.

"Jace." She rasped.

Simon frowned. "Huh?"

"We have to get to him-he is with Valentine. I know it."

SPNTMI

Jo raised the rifle higher, just looking at the Enochian scrawl on the barrel was making her eyes swim, and she shot at another demon…ancient thing. It squealed as blood and black gunk spewed out of the gaping wound. In front of her Isabelle was shrieking like a harpy, her whip lashing through the throngs of troll- like ancients that had dripping tusks of venom, and they were flanked by centipede-like demons who had fangs growing out of the tops of their skulls like antlers, and they gave off a horrible reek. The centipede ancients chittered angrily, their pinchers scissoring together rapidly. Isabelle swung the whip high over her head, letting it slice the scabbed flesh of the monsters, grinning even when the blood splattered onto her clothes and in her hair. Jo covered her, and her hair whipped forward as one of Alec's arrows shot past her and sunk deep into the folds on a centipede's neck. Alec had already used five of his arrows; it wouldn't be long before he had to use a shorter ranged weapon. One ancient with webbed hands bounded forward on four legs, its face was a combination of piranha and parrot. It lumbered awkwardly because its hind legs were longer than its front. It hissed at Jo, it almost went cross-eyed with its four, bulbous yellow eyes. She raised the gun higher, ignoring Alec's shout. Jo understood what he had said in the back of her mind: he wanted her to take a shot at a less vital part while he took it down.

Jo's ears pricked at the sound of the bow being drawn back; amazed she could hear it and the twang of the taunt bowstring releasing its arrow just as she pushed down on the trigger. The creature howled as Jo's bullet hit its hands, blowing a wide hole in the center and the ancient reared, bellowing in pain when the arrow lodged itself in the face. Its mouth opened wide, blood filling its maw as its teeth clacked together in agitation. The ancient reared back and collapsed on top of a centipede ancient, impaling itself of the jagged glass like teeth of the other creature. The two ancients thrashed together creating a screeching whirligig as they cut a path through the swarm of ancients. The crowed rippled again as something began to move forward to them. Isabelle's whip flicked towards it as if guided by instinct. There was no cry of response, but the whip vibrated with tension, taunt and it thrummed with music as if it was a harp string. It was being held by someone with a powerful grip. Isabelle growled as she tried to yank her whip back and there was a tug in response. Laughter rang out amidst the snarling.

The whip suddenly slackened as whoever was holding it strode forward. A woman with dark hair held onto the tail end of the whip, waving it at Isabelle. Her dark purple leather jacket brought out the gold of Isabelle's whip as it coiled around the leather of her jacket. She gave the glittering whip a long glance as she pursed her plump pink lips in a mock pout. Turning her head to Isabelle, her eyes seems to flick over, like beetle shifting its wings and her eyes became jet black.

"Awww is the widdle Nephwilim mad that I took away its toy?"

"Bitch." Isabelle snarled.

"I'm gonna take a wild guess and say your name's Meg." Jo said.

"I'm flattered you'd notice little ol' me." Meg replied.

Jo's lip curled, and she was about to shoot but Alec beat her to it. Meg didn't seem the least bit surprised and sidestepped the arrow, which struck thin air. Dark splotches of blood spattered into the air as yelps echoed around them. Alec glared at the spot, another arrow already notched in place. Jo realized that he could see them.

"Hellhounds." Jo shouted.

"Figures." Alec grimaced.

Meg just laughed. She pulled the whip tighter to her and Isabelle stumbled forward, unable to hold her ground. With a deft turn of her wrist, Meg pulled Isabelle into a tightly woven embrace. Alec shouted as Meg tugged hard on Isabelle's hair. Without taking her eyes off of Isabelle, Meg whistled a sharp high note. Alec wasn't fast enough as the hellhound tackled him. He raised his bow as though to use it as a shield, but there was a thick snarling as the wood of the bow began to creak from the weight of the hellhound's jaws that Jo knew to be gripping the bow.

"Shoot!" Alec shouted.

Meg removed her crushing grip out of Isabelle's scalp and raised her hand. Jo's rifle was yanked out of her hands and she was suddenly lifted up into the air. She was hanging suspended, and she remembered feeling this way at the Dumort as vampires hauled her body around. The chill of the air burned in her lungs and she was pulled downwards, the wind screaming in her ears, making her vision blur. Jo slammed back down onto the metal of the ship's deck and she wheezed, feeling the shock send spasms throughout her body. She tried to lift her head, but the strain threatened to make her black out. Somewhere above her Meg laughed. Jo struggled to move and a sudden stench of rotting bodies and wet heat forced her back down as she felt the weight of huge paws settle onto her chest. Jo stiffened as the breath of a hellhound swirled around her face and made her hair flutter and stick to her skin. Her hand groped for the shotgun as she tried to look for Alec and Isabelle, but a mighty snap told her the hellhound managed to crack Alec's bow in half, and Isabelle's shriek made Jo wince. The sharp twang of knife came out fast and hit flesh, tearing out chunks that splashed onto the deck as a high pitch keening of pain told Jo that Alec managed to wound one of the hounds.

Alec's sudden scream deafened Jo, and when she tried to leap up, sharp claws dug into her shoulders and legs. Heat trembled in her body where the claws were digging deeper inside her, and the quick wetness that began to ooze out was making her panic. She yelled, her arm still struggling to get the gun, but her own cries were drowned out by Isabelle's cursing at Meg, who was raining down blow after blow on the tied up Isabelle.

"NO! Come at me you ugly bitch!"

Shots rang out and with a high pitched yelp of pain and Jo felt hot blood spray onto her as she felt the weight of the hellhound disappear, but it was the angry words that Jo was happy to hear. Jo scrambled to her feet as more shots rang out. Jo turned to Ellen with grin that her mother reluctantly returned as she tossed Jo her rifle. Another burst of screaming pain was revealed in Meg as she pulled a dagger from her shoulder, her black eyes narrowed in rage. Isabelle twisted herself free, her whip surging to life to punish Meg with blazing lashes, and as soon as she tore herself away from the demon someone else was suddenly there.

"Jace!" Isabelle cried.

He didn't spare her glance instead he studied Meg, and there was something in his eyes that made the rest of the air crackle with danger. He sneered at the sight of Meg covered in deep gashes and her ripped jacket, and disheveled hair.

"So you're a demon huh? I gotta say, not as threatening as I hoped." Jace sneered.

"Oh I just might surprise you stud." Meg said.

Alec glanced between the two warily, his knife bloody and he flanked his sister, who raised her whip and began to whirl it above her head like a lasso. Jo and Ellen raised their shotguns again and the five began to circle Meg, who now looked tense. The floor trembled with the weight of the hellhounds as deep grooves began to appear in the metal as their claws dug into the surface of the ship.

"Listen…." Jace began.

"No." said Alec. "Just go."

"Alec!" cried Isabelle.

"No, we can talk about that later." Alec stated. He finally looked at Jace. "Just go after Valentine."

Jace stared at Alec, swallowing convulsively as he seemed to struggle to say something before finally nodding. He glared at Ellen and Jo with a fierceness that was startling, but Ellen recognized what it was and she didn't hesitate to look Jace in the eyes.

"Go, we'll take care of this."

Jace stared at her a moment longer before giving her a tight smile. "Try not to die mundane."

"Get outta here already."

Jace raced past them, shouting a war cry as he brandished a large blade and disappeared into the fray. Meg threw her head back and laughed.

"So was that it?"

"Not quite." Alec said.

"Well then show me what you got."

Isabelle's whip shot out of its revolution to catch Meg in the legs, tripping her up. Meg watched as her feet tangled in the deadly strand. She lifted one foot just as Alec rushed forward, dagger in hand. Meg stomped on Isabelle's whip, pinning it beneath her boot. Before Isabelle could tug the whip out of Meg's grasp, Jo and Ellen shot simultaneously, blowing holes throughout the demon's borrowed body. Meg stumbled backwards, her grip on the whip slackening. Her look of rage strengthened as Alec crashed into her and pinned her in between his arms. He stabbed her in the shoulder, boring into her. She laughed again, her voice carrying over the screams of the other shadowhunters.

"Do that again." She crooned at Alec.

She pulled him close and as soon as she did, Isabelle's whip moved, almost of its own accord and to track with the human eye, but Meg wasn't human, and she grabbed the whip again in one fluid motion. The demon pulled the whip to her and Isabelle stumbled, unable to control her violent motions that brought her straight to Meg in a matter of seconds. Isabelle collapsed against Meg, who spun the whip around Isabelle, and the gold of the wire strained against the shadowhunter's flesh, keeping her bound next to Meg. Isabelle hissed in pain as the wire cut deeper and thin red lines appeared on her skin. Her mouth was made into a grim slash as a strand of wire cut into her lip.

With one hand, Meg managed to keep a tight grip for the whip while she gripped Isabelle by the waist. Alec held onto to Meg, his dagger still embedded in Meg's shoulder and seemed unable to be moved by Alec's strength. The demon laughed, its black eyes flashed as the Lightwood siblings struggled to get out of its grip. Meg was sandwiched between the two of them, but was in control. Jo and Ellen looked on warily as a dozen strands of wire wrapped around Isabelle's neck.

"Demon-"Isabelle rasped.

"Yup. I'm the real thing." Meg whispered.

Meg nuzzled Isabelle's black hair, the strands catching the moonlight, glaring at them like magic next to the gleaming golden whip and the stars above. Meg leaned her head over to Alec, whispering something in his ear; he blinked rapidly as her breath made his eyelashes flutter in irritation. She suddenly poked her tongue out and let it hang out, running it down the side of Alec's face. He flushed and shouted at her.

Jo began to incant Latin, and Meg choked as he head started to shake, lips vibrating. It looked like she was holding back from vomiting and Meg threw her head back. However, Meg started speaking. Her tongue bulged and curled around the black words. They were deep, as if scraped out from the bottom of a well. Meg's lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing bright pink gums and gleaming teeth. Rasping an incantation, Meg's hair fluttered against her cheeks. In a language that had probably been dead for centuries, crude, cruel, and ancient. The incantation warbled in her throat, vibrating like a fiery rocket engine warming up. Meg shook all over, teeth chattering as she continued and her eyes had a stained look to them. Her head snapped back forward with an audible click, her mouth now relaxed and pliant and she smiled.

"Sorry, guess you're stuck with me."

"We'll see." Alec snarled.

Meg grinned and then pursed her lips at Alec, who began to speak in Latin as he tried to drive the dagger in deeper. The blade was painful to her, her screams rioting off the walls and she managed to speak again as her Latin drowned out Alec's incantations. There were shrieks in response to Meg's voice. A dozen or so ancients began to converge to Meg, swarming around the hunters and the lightwoods. Isabelle's eyes glimmered with fury as Meg backed up against the railing of the ship and having no choice but to follow. The ancients that surrounded them hooted and howled, screeched, and snarled and Meg nodded her head at them.

Two things happened in rapid succession. A large ancient that resembled a monkey with webbed limbs leaped for the three of them, completely passing Ellen and Jo, even after the two women shot at the creature. Alec reacted faster than Isabelle was able to, and he let go of the knife, and simultaneously grabbed the wire from Meg's grasp and shoved Isabelle away from Meg. Alec grunted from the effort, the other end of the whip wriggling in his grasp. Isabelle stumbled forward, still more or less tangled in her own whip. The whip loosened wetly from her neck, making a squelching cutting noise. Isabelle fell into a heap, blood spurting down her neck, deep cuts staining her whip. Her blood pooled on the deck and the harder she tried to breathe, the deeper the wounds on her neck became. Alec shouted in alarm as more ancients ran to Isabelle, mouths open with their dripping fangs and tusks. Alec shoved Meg before she could move, but Meg gripped Alec's arm tight as she stumbled backwards and tumbled over the railing, taking Alec with her.

SPNTMI

Sam lifted his knife higher and threw it in a wide arc, where it sailed forward and sank deep into the oozing flesh of an ancient. Its boneless body sunk to the ground, its zipper-like serrated teeth gnashing in pain as it was pinned to the deck by the large knife. Luke was half changed his face in a rictus of fang and fur. Huge, erect ears pushed past his hair, and his eyes flashed gold. It made a part of Sam shiver in revulsion, but he was just glad Luke was on their side. The older man's hands' nails extended into claws that slashed wickedly at the advancing ancients. Sam watched as Dean shot off a few rounds into an ancient. His heart pounded as one got too close to his brother, but was relieved when the creature eventually lay sprawled at Dean's feet.

Luke tossed a dagger to Sam, who nodded in thanks and brought the jagged blade down on in incoming ancient. Blood and brackish fluid spurted out over the wound. A sudden clanging noise made them both look up. Pair of Oni ancients was climbing up the side of the deck. The entrance to the lower decks was elevated on the outside; the heavy door leading to the stairway was corroded from the sprays of poison that came from other ancients. The stairs were stainless steel and the farther down, the more covered in shadows they were. Sam shouted for Dean, who was reloading at rapid speed. Dean raced to his brother and Luke, only to be blocked by an ancient that was resembled a komodo dragon with a rat's teeth. It reared up on its hind legs and waved its scaly hands, which tapered into long clacking claws. It chased after Dean, whose' aimed veered as he moved, and as the shot missed it, it lowered its head and revealed its spindly teeth and forked tongue.

"Duck!" Luke snarled.

Dean's eyes widened as he realized what Luke was about to do. He ducked a split second before Luke raised his arm and threw the knife. It whistled in the air above Dean's head and it landed right between the colorless eyes of the ancient. It collapsed at Dean's feet, and he shot off a few more rounds that thankfully hit a few ancients that screamed in pain at the sudden shots. Dean crouched down to the dead ancient and pulled the knife out of it in one swift motion. He was at Sam and Luke's side in seconds. Dean nodded his thanks at Luke and gave him back the knife.

"Ok, Ellen is back on the other side, covering Jo, Alec, and Isabelle. Where is Valentine?" he asked.

"Probably down below deck." Luke looked carefully at Dean. "It will be heavily guarded."

"I figured. Do you have any idea what's guarding the sword?" Dean asked.

Luke smiled grimly. "A higher demon I imagine. Valentine probably keeps the soul-sword on his person."

"Cool." Dean grimaced. "Hold down the fort?"

"We'll hold them off as long as we can." Luke said.

"Wait-you're not going alone." Sam said.

Dean stared at Sam. "Yeah I am, I'll feel better knowing somebody has my back up here."

"Dean…"

A loud screech broke their conversation and the three of them looked up. A dozen or so winged ancients swooped down on the other end of the deck, diving into a mass of shadowhunters. The screaming was fierce and was brought on by the flash of seraph blades. One shadowhunter was lifted clear off the ground before a loud crunching noise and the lower half of the shadowhunter collapsed onto the deck, becoming food as small ancients swarmed over it and began to devour it. Luke could have sworn he heard Maryse's war cry.

"Go." Luke said. "We'll take of this."

"Dean-"

Luke grabbed Dean's shoulder. "Trust us. Please."

Dean glared at Luke for a moment before turning his gaze to Sam. Looking his brother in the eye, he shifted his stance and crouched next to Sam. The two didn't speak and Luke pulled back, warily watching the sky.

"Sam-" Dean began.

The clattering of hooves on the metal deck interrupted them. It was a skeleton riding atop a decaying horse, its rider brandishing a rusty double bladed ax. It raised its weapon, galloping towards them. Sam shoved Dean down the stairs, his brother just managing to grab the railing to keep himself from tumbling down into the stairwell. The skeleton ancient charged at Sam and Luke, its horse hearing and the hooves of the dead creature waving madly, nearly striking Sam with its metal shoes waggle. The blackened metal revealed the loose rusted nails that jutted out of the shoes and the horse plunged.

"SAM!"

Dean ran back up to Sam and Luke. Sam grabbed his gun just as the horse was about to bludgeon him, Sam shot the horse in the center of its hoof, right below its shoe and lodging the bullet right in the tendersest part of the foot. The horse bellowed in pain staggering back on its hind legs and its rider's skull clacked dangerously, nearly loosing balance. The horse tried to put its weight on the injured hoof, before bringing back up with a sharp whinny. The skeleton raised it ax yet again as the horse staggered back against the doorway to the lower decks, blocking Dean. The flanks of the horse smelled awful, briefly bumping into Dean before falling against the metal doorway, its thick skin scraping and falling away on the door's hinges. This unbalanced the steed as it crashed into the door, its weight causing the door to slam back into its frame. This pushed Dean back as the door slammed in his face and the last thing he head was Sam shout his name.

The horse bared its teeth as it leaned against the now shut door, struggling to stand as the skeleton clacked and whined. It kicked its heels into the bruised sides of its steed. Rushing forward, the horse's block teeth sank into Luke's leg. The man shouted, his pointed teeth gleamed brightly and he snarled viciously. When Luke took a swipe at the horse, his hand was larger and hairier than before, claws jagged and distended as they raked across the horse's face and caught on one of its bloated eyes. The filmy eye popped like a grape, the horse jerking upwards as its head swung manically back and forth. Foam spewed out of its mouth, blood pouring from its ruined eye socket. Luke began to rush forward, snarling. The horse raised one forelock and struck it down onto Luke's knee; the crack was gut wrenching but ultimately drowned out by Luke's shouts of pain, which intensified when the horse collapsed on top of Luke. It whinnied pitifully as its rider untangled himself from its position and it began to climb over the horse to get to Luke, raising its ax and readying itself to plunge it into Luke's skull.

Luke was pinned underneath the still thrashing horse and he groaned from the added weight of the skeleton moving across the horse. Luke yelled as Sam shot the skeleton, the bullet lodging into the skeleton's ribs, making it stumble backwards, its ax tumbling out of its knobby hands and bouncing and scraping against the horse before clattering onto the deck by Sam's feet. Sam grabbed the ax just as Luke's claws shot through the roof of the horse's mouth and the skeleton began to reach for Luke. The horse slumped, finally dead and its tongue lolled in Luke's face, having nowhere else to go as the top half of its face had blown off from Luke's claws. Blood and chunks of flesh littered Luke with the remnants of the horse's jaws.

Sam pitched forward, ax raised high above his head and he brought it down, right down the center of the skeleton's skull. With an alarming crack, the skull splintered right down the middle, the teeth of the skull exploding out in all directions stopping the skeleton in mid grin. Headless, the skeleton fell back on its knees before sliding forwards onto the deck. Its bones broke apart when it hit the metal of the deck clattering before disappearing. Panting, Sam crouched down beside Luke, and began pushing the horse. The horse was taking longer to disintegrate. Sam turned to Luke.

"You ok down there?"

Luke grunted. "I think my leg is broken, I know my knee's shot."

"Ok then, hold still."

Sam threw his weight into it, pushing the horse away from Luke. Sam strained to move it, flexing his shoulders as the horse finally gave. It rolled sideways, its legs falling in on themselves as the horse rolled over on its back and onto its side, leaving a trail of dark slime as it did so. It fell with a thump, bits of flesh and globs of pus wobbled like jello when it hit the deck. It oozed blood and something inky black before disappearing.

Luke attempted to stand, but with a growl of pain, he slumped back down. With Sam's help, he hobbled to one side of the door and slumped back down, his face pale and tight lines were visible. Wordlessly, Sam handed him the ax and slumped down himself. Luke watched Sam reload his gun. The two continued to stay silent as the shouts of battle rang across the deck.

SNPTMI

Clary and Simon raced to one end of the deck, leaping away from the hordes of ancients that were in a frenzy to attack. Faces of other shadowhunters blurred around her, she thought she recognized some of them. However, there was a lone fighter in the center of a group of ancients and was one that Clary recognized by the rumpled trench coat that was billowing from the swift movements of its wearer. An ancient darted forward, aiming for the back.

"Cas behind you!" Clary shouted.

Cas whirled around and slashed downwards with his blade, catching the ancient in mid leap. The creature shrieked in pain as the blade pierced right in the center of its body. It disappeared quickly, crumpling in on itself. More of the same ancient surrounded Cas. They were spiders, but their pincers were numerous, clinging on their spindly legs, beads of dark liquid gathering at the tips. From their eye sockets, there were fangs. A sudden jet of steaming liquid squirted out from one of the spider's eyes. Cas veered to the side, the jet of liquid splattering his trench coat. It quickly burned a hole through the fabric with an angry hiss. Cas's eyes narrowed, and when he spared Clary a glance, he nodded at her. Gripping his blade tight, he threw it like a javelin and impaled the spider ancient. It squealed briefly, pinned to the deck before shuddering into nonexistence.

Clary and Simon moved into action. Clary's _stele_ in one hand and a dagger in the other and Simon snarled as one spider ancient leapt for him, and he dodged it. The two immediately were at Cas's side. The spider ancients scuttled warily around the three of them. A large thump made the three of them look up. With a sick thudding in her stomach, Clary instantly recognized the new arrival as a Ravener. Its cluster of eyes that rested on the dome of its skull was wildly rolling around, and its many legs were agile. The Ravener was above them, on the flat edge of a metal hanging above them, which seemed to lead to an elevated entrance to a stairway, but Clary wasn't sure. She concentrated on the Ravener's movements; its limbs were thick and scaly, and numerous. Its mouth dropped open revealing its pointed teeth, and its black tongue, which licked the edges of its fangs, as if in anticipation. Drool hung out of its snout in long strings, taking a long time to drip down onto the deck and pool onto the ground. Its spiked tail whipped back and forth excitedly, like dog eagerly waiting for its food. It gurgled and Clary shuddered at the memory of its voice.

"_So hungry." _It moaned. _"…angel flesh is best…"_

Clary was aware of Cas's sharp reply, and felt more than saw him face the creature. Clary shuddered and a spider ancient skittered across the deck, zigzagging as did so and leapt high. Its pincers shone with venom, fangs erect as it dove for Simon's face. Before he could react, Cas's hand shot out, grabbing the spider midair. It squealed, legs waggling and its eyes swiveled in its sockets and spayed a jet of acid onto Cas's hand. The angel winced, crushing the spider even as the acid burned his hand, angry welts rapidly forming and a sizzling accompanied the steam that was rising. Cas threw the spider into the crowd, bowling over the odd dozen that had encircled them.

Chittering angrily, five spiders dashed forward and leapt for Simon. Without thinking, Clary stepped in front of him, throwing her arms wide open. The spiders screeched, managing to pull themselves back from fully leaping and they tumbled over themselves in their hurry to back away. Clary blinked, she tuned out Simon who was angrily shouting at her. There was a mild buzzing in her ears and a trembling in her gut. Something told her to look at her arm, and when she did the odd mark on her arm was plain as day, visible by the star's light. Clary turned her forearm in the direction of the spiders, facing it forward and in their line of sight and she walked toward them. They hissed at her, backing away quickly and gave her a wide birth. One spider darted out of the way, and sped for Simon, but when Clary shoved herself in between them; it slunk back to the other spiders, hissing angrily.

Clary turned to Simon. "Look-"

The Ravener dropped onto the deck with a thud, its legs tensing as it readied to spring. Cas planted himself in front of it as the spiders began to simultaneously spray their acid. Clary couldn't leap in between either Simon or Cas, so she ducked and kept her _stele_ firm in her hand as she brought her arms up to shield her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cas turn to her with wide eyes and start to speak as the Ravener tackled the angel. Clary jumped back, her feet suddenly slipping and giving out beneath her as she felt nothing but empty space behind her. She screamed, feeling her arms shoot out for balance and she could see Simon run towards her, his lips forming her name but that didn't matter because she could see the metal of the deck bending and hissing where the spiders had sprayed their acid. Spiders were in the air, snapping their pincers as they rushed Simon, clinging to him like a coat, and he slipped on a still steaming patch of acid. He went down hard, the weight of his body made the deck beneath him bend even as he writhed from the burns that were forming on his body.

She wanted to run to him, but her legs wouldn't listen to her as they tried to get back onto solid ground, her foot scraped at the corroded metal, her balance still shaky as she tried to get out of the ever growing hole of the acid eaten deck. It was too large for her to cross as her legs miscalculated her steps and tangled themselves up. Her stomach jumped up to her throat and pushed back her screams as she fell back, her hands slippery with sweat, and she watched, unable to do anything as her vision tunneled, focusing on her _stele_, which flew out of her grasp. Clary fell through the hole, watching as her beloved _stele_ cartwheeled in the air above her, backlit by the stars.

SPNTMI

Alec felt the metal digging into his back and panicked. He sat up, ignoring the sudden pounding in his protesting body. A hand pushed him back down. It was gentle and warm. Alec's eyes swam and he had to wait for his vision to clear. He was aware of his chest heaving up and down, and it took him a moment to realize that the shallow rasp was his breathing. Alec flushed and tried to get himself under control. Slowly sitting up, he coughed and was surprised by the way it made his head spin. Magnus was sitting across from him, looking as disheveled as Alec had ever seen him. The warlock was pale and shaking, and he was drenched, his black hair plastered to him. He looked as if he would pass out at any given moment.

Alec eyed him carefully, meeting Magnus's gold eyes and felt the familiar rippling in his gut, but this time his mind didn't tell him to look away, nor did he feel the usual burn of shame as he met the other man's eyes. Alec felt as though he could simply sit here and hold onto the moment, feeling oddly calm. The truck lurched from the rocking of the Hudson. Alec stiffened, remembering why a truck would be idling in a river.

"What happened? I need you to heal me so I can get back on the ship. There's a battle." He said in a voice sharper than he intended.

Magnus sighed. "You're welcome."

"Excuse me?"

"You fell overboard. I had to let the barrier down so I could get near you. When I pulled you back here, you weren't breathing." Magnus sounded weary.

Alec squirmed. "Well…you didn't have to do that."

Alec felt vaguely upset when he said this, as it seemed inappropriate. A voice in his mind cautioned him and he was aware that he was being rude, but he couldn't afford time for pleasantries while a battle raged only a few feet away from him. He also felt the sudden swell of anger at Magnus for making him feel as though he needed to make amendments to his code, to the law, to the need to rectify the situation he was being put in. This wasn't fair. Magnus's eyes flashed, and Alec could have sworn it was hurt that Magus felt before it flitted away to be replaced by anger.

"What do you want from me Alec?"

Magnus sounded so old, which Alec disliked. The warlock had no right to be acting out of character at a time like this. Nor should he look so frayed, with his eyes fluttering so dangerously and so bruised looking. Magnus looked muted and bedraggled, devoid of the characteristics Alec was familiar with. It was more than Magnus's appearance that stopped Alec in his tracks. It was the question itself. A voice told Alec to exercise caution. The question was making Alec feel dizzy with its weight.

"I…" Alec choked. "Well…what do you want from me?" he asked.

Magnus sagged a bit. "A little bit of acknowledgment. I do so many things for you and your friends, yet you don't seem to know why." There was a trace of bitterness in his voice.

"Are you tired?" Alec asked.

"Yes."

Alec held out his hands, raising his palms for Magnus to take. Magnus's eyes widened. Alec looked steadily back into them, feeling himself tremble at his own offering. A small art of his mind marveled at how quickly he offered, done without thought. He was glad that Magnus did not look away, but was hurt that he had to look so surprised.

"Use my energy. That's what you need to power the barrier right? I've heard of warlocks doing this before so-"

Magnus grabbed Alec's hands, palm to palm and cutting off the rest of Alec's words as the shadowhunter's breath hitched. Alec was frightened by how at ease he felt when Magnus's hands brushed his own, at the fact that he could only marvel at the fact that a powerful warlock was pulling out his energy and he felt no fear or resentment for it. Alec could no longer look at Magnus in the face, so his gaze rested on their hands. His own hands were smaller than Magnus's and fitted there perfectly.

SPNTMI

Dean squinted in the dark, the colt grasped in his hands in the tight reassurance of an old partner. His feet were solid as they slowly descended down the stairs. The sounds of the battle were muffled from the thick metal door, and he was pretty sure Sam hadn't heard him pounding on it or his shouts. So he continued downwards, the chilly air making his breath cloud. He stopped, listening for movement as he fished a small flashlight out of his pocket. Clicking it on, a small, but powerful beam of light leaped to life and he raised it higher.

The interior of the ship was very industrial. Catwalks that were supported by beams or hanging by chains competed for space with the ladders that led up or down to large doorways crafted out of thick metal, some had steel doors blocking entry. Dean peeked into the open spaces and saw nothing but cluttered machinery, which looked as if they haven't been used in a long time. The antiseptic look of empty metal corridors that seemed to lead on forever or to another entry to a dead end was putting Dean on edge. He didn't even know how far he went, it all looked the same. The only thing that clued him into the fact that there was life down here was the smell. The faint stench of iron made his lip curl. It wouldn't matter how clean a place could be, Dean would always smell the blood. He went in the direction it was coming from and he slowed when he glimpsed shadow on the wall, his heart pounded. The farther he went in, the colder the air got, until his hair stood on end and he could feel his goose bumps through his jacket.

His flashlight chased the shadows, casting erratic beams and at each one he jumped. Dean grimaced as his unease mounted to ridiculous levels. The cold was pressing his ribs together and he massaged his chest to loosen it and the deja'vu hit him in full force. He hadn't been this scared since…

"Hello Dean."

Dean spun around, raising the colt higher. He grunted in a pain as his chest thudded at the sight. Sam was standing before him in a pristine white suit. He was even carrying a rose with him, clutched loosely in his hand, his fingers gently massaging the petals. Dean gasped.

"Son of a bitch."

Dean watched the not Sam smile as he squinted his eyes and tried to raise the colt higher. It was hard to breathe and spots were starting to blot his vision. He growled, feeling the noise rumbled up and tear at his throat, hurting as if he had just drunk battery acid. His legs were beginning to shake, and he ignored the voice that was screaming at him to run, that this wasn't what he thought it was. All the same, he struggled to speak.

"Lucifer." He spat.

It laughed. "You flatter me with the comparison." Its eyes flashed angrily.

Dean laughed. "Don't be. I bet you're fugly in real life."

It looked amused. "I'm surprised. You're a mundane and yet you think you're a threat to me?" It laughed.

"I am." Dean smirked. "So you must be…an ancient, the one guarding Valentine's hidey hole."

"How very astute of you."

"It's been said before." Dean tried to shrug.

"Of course, that won't get you very far mundane. You're running out of steam. You can't win against the demon of fear. "

At this, Dean swayed and hit the wall, gasping at the cold that slammed into his bones and caused him to shake all over. When he tried to stand up straight, sharp stabbing pains went into his chest like searing lightening that made him double over. Dean groaned when he found out that he was unable to straighten out. His eyes widened, he couldn't get in a full lungful of air and his panting was getting shorter and faster. His hands were getting clammy; it was hard to grip the colt and the flashlight. The light was waving erratically, racing from one point to another like a demented spotlight. His mouth felt stuffed with pennies.

"You'd be surprised."

Dean was surprised by the effort it took to speak. It left him dizzy and now he had to concentrate to hear what it was saying. When it moved closer to him, his lips pulled back, soundlessly snarling at the thing. His heart squeezed at their proximity. It smelled like carnage and when it smiled, Dean could have sworn he saw a mouth full of blood. There was no trace of sulfur, but it was too familiar and Dean struggled to move as his gasps became softer. The tiny voice in the back of his mind was urging him to leave.

"And you'd be surprised how astute I am. For example, I know Lucifer will get his way. He is quite a determined fellow once you get to know him."

It leaned down even further, Sam's hair was brushing Dean's ear. He shivered so hard, he thought his muscles might jump out of his skin. It was wearing his brother's face and the coldness in the eyes was so jarring, Dean felt the sweat break out on his skin.

"I also know Lucifer will be pleased when Sam Winchester will be brought to him like gift, and there won't be a thing you can about it."

"I'm gonna kill you." Dean finally ground out.

"Oh?"

Dean wanted to say _'I won't die by Satan's whipping boy, you stupid little bitch'_, or _'damn straight asshole'_, but his throat was clenching tight, making tight clicking noises instead. He dropped the flashlight, the light rolling away and finally hitting a wall, lighting it up and throwing up light at nothing, while Dean and the ancient were cast into shadow. Dean's knees brought him lower to the ground and his arms shook, the colt suddenly weighing much more that it should. He used his other hand to hold up his gun arm, feeling sluggish as he did so, as though his bones had been replaced by rubber. His palm weakly clutching at his elbow, and he raised the gun higher. His trigger finger was turning purple. It was practically standing above him, smiling serenely down on him. Dean's stomach churned, stirred up by rage as he struggled to move, but as the bile and the metallic feel of acid threatened to choke him, he was damned if he was going to puke in front of a monster.

Instead he raised the colt as high as he could, his arm screaming in protest and shaking so badly, he'd be lucky he'd hit his target. Dean didn't have time to steady his hand. He could barely see and his lungs begged for air, his fingers' spasms getting more violent. He willed all his muscles to obey him as he struggled to squeeze the trigger, frustration finally winning out as his finger pressed down on the trigger with all his might. The flash from the shot flared in his eyes and he could momentarily see the surprise on its face as the bullet embedded itself dead center in the forehead.

The monster slumped down onto its knees, teetering for a moment before crashing facedown onto the metal floor. The crushing hold it had on Dean vanished and he gulped in air with huge heaving breaths. He shakily rose to his feet, head still muzzy and his vision still cloudy. Swaying, he looked down at it. At the sight of the crumpled and slowly vanishing creature, he snorted.

'_Some demon he was.'_ He thought.

"Yeah." He rasped.

Dean's throat convulsed and he coughed, bringing up a mouthful of blood. It made his whole body hurt and that was enough to make him crumple to the ground.

SPNTMI

Simon crashed to the ground, the remaining spiders clinging to him, lessening the impact of his fall. They squealed in pain underneath him. The impact shook his whole body, making him feel as brittle as an old man. He had landed on his back and he can feel their pincers moving against his T-shirt and he shuddered in revulsion, springing up and ripping them off his body. Snarling at the final spider, which hissed at him before Simon lunged at it and cracked its body in his hands. Simon threw the dead demon on the ground, lip curling as the many legged monster. The smell of blood was overpowering and as much as Simon wanted to raise his hand to block out the smell, he stopped himself.

'_Knowing Valentine, following the smell is a surefire way to find him.'_ He thought.

Simon raced out of the entryway, only to gape out the layout of the underbelly of the ship. Inhaling deeply, he caught the rusty stench of blood, and something else beneath it. Shrugging, Simon ran to it. He marveled at the speed his legs were taking him, the catwalk swinging beneath him and the chains that held them up jangled nastily, as if shouting slurs at him. Simon pumped his arms and swerved to grab a rung and he leapt off the catwalk to get to the ladder he wanted. For a split second, he felt like he was flying and then his hands gripped the rung tight. The catwalk swung behind him, swaying back and forth like a taunt.

Simon began to climb up the ladder and hauled himself up and over the entryway. He found himself in a room crowded with machinery. He had no idea what it was for, except that it looked too dangerous for just one person to operate. Ugly pistons had suspicious stains gathering in their creases and one large funnel looking machine had its flat top covered with a large white sheet. Simon had no desire to take a peek under it. He hurried out of the room, turning into a corridor and the strong smell it him and it mingled with the odor of chemicals, something sharp and cold, and another spicier scent. It took Simon a moment to realize the blood was ingrained in the other scents, and those scents summed up the character of a person, for he now knew the scent of a human being was mixed up in there, along with a distinct smell that he was beginning to associate with shadowhunters. It was Valentine. Simon roared and shot forward, the bland halls a blur as he ran. Rage pumped his heart, inflated his lungs, and pushed through his blood vessels.

He smelled Valentine before he saw him. The sight of the broad shouldered man caused Simon to see red. The color suddenly flashed into his vision, strong enough to stun, but Simon shook his head. His mouth was wide open, lips pulled back as far as they could go, and he felt his snarl rumble up from his throat and bellow out of his mouth like smog. Hatred was thrumming through his body, and he was energized by it. Valentine had stopped, staring at him with an expression of fond exasperation, or maybe amusement. It was a look far more condescending than even Jace could ever give. Simon could picture Maia slung over Valentine's shoulder, the same self-satisfied expression on his face.

"Bastard." He rumbled. "You killed Maia."

Valentine tapped the scabbard sheathing Maellartach.

"What of it?"

Without a second thought, Simon bellowed, charging blindly forward as his feet launched him forward at his enemy.

SPNTMI

Jace panted, unable to keep as silent as he would like. The underbelly of Valentine's ship was vast, but it was already showing signs of wear. He had passed a section where acid from the deck had eaten through, a large corroded hole, and Jace had sidestepped the still dripping acid. He had seen demons, or rather ancients racing above him, their forms eluding the full scope of his vision. He dropped his gaze, scanning the interior for stray enemies. Something glittered in is peripheral vision. It was familiar, and Jace knew its shape to be a _stele_. He picked it up and was flooded with a sense of familiarity.

"Clary." He whispered.

Jace quickly looked up, as if Clary would materialize in that very instance. He knew for a fact that Agramon was skulking about, along with who-knows-what-else. Jace sprinted forward, his feet remembering just as much as his mind the route to the room that kept Maia and Simon chained up. His feet flung themselves over obstacles that would cause grave injury if he miscalculated and hit one of them. Jace thought he understood fear from his time in the City of Bones, but he had underestimated the feeling. If he couldn't find Clary, he'd never forgive himself.

A loud clanging stops Jace in his tracks, and he sidestepped into a little alcove heavily bolted together, and he unsheathed his seraph blade as the sounds of many footsteps loudly passed by him. It drew his gaze upward as he realized that it was coming from above him. He recognized the steady, heavy tread as his father's, and its rhythm meant that he was in a fight. Jace's heart clenched and a sudden sick feeling had him reeling. It was a struggle just to remain upright and Jace will himself to be still. His seraph blade still held in his hand, he gripped it tight and whispered a name.

"_Abrariel."_

SPNTMI

Clary fell with a scream which cut off as she landed heavily onto something cold. The impact went through her, but wasn't as bad as she thought it was. What she landed on was cold and still, but not the hard flat surface of metal. Shakily sitting up, she turned round to see that he knife had clattered to the other side of the room, but she remembered that she was not able to hang onto her _stele_. It was probably gone forever and Clary felt the loss keenly, that another piece of her mother had been ripped away from her. She choked back a sob.

Pushing herself up, her hand pressed against a shoulder. Clary froze, and let her fingers slowly crawl over the surface she was still sitting on. She felt her fingers press into a collarbone, her body going cold. Clary's fingers fumbled for a pulse. Finding none, she screamed, leaping off and racing to the other end of the room. Swallowing convulsively, some part of her demanded to see who it was. Blinking the sweat out of her eyes, she felt her neck crack as she turned. It was Maia.

Clary felt the scream build up in her throat, knew it was rising up out from some deep part of herself, and it rattled in her mouth like so many jumbled pennies, but when the time came to release it, there was just a squeak. Maia's body was pale, the veins still standing out despite being empty and her body was rigid. Her look of terror bored into Clary even though Maia's wide open eyes stared at the ceiling. Her mouth was a wide slash, lips dried enough to freeze in mid snarl, and her nostrils were flared, little bits of crust gathering at the edges. The deep gash that went across her neck raised the two slices of flesh opposite of each other; the edges looked jagged, as if poorly cut, but the rest was a deep, clean slice. Clary wanted to believe them to be fake, like in the movies, the fake flesh they used for gory close ups of mutilated characters.

The wound left the slash elevated skin that was turning grey already, despite the dried blood that still desperately clung to Maia's body. Clary blinked. She could just picture that Maia would turn her head any second now, blink her eyes, close her mouth and lick her lips before grinning at Clary. The image was so strong that Clary felt a mounting terror for that to actually happen. There was a fierce knot growing in Clary's stomach as her gaze was drawn to Maia's dead eyes. The color was already muted, the whole of the eyes clouded over, the light was already gone. Clary wished so hard for Maia to blink that the knot in her stomach hardened up into her throat and she choked so hard that tears blurred her vision and her legs shook.

The vomit shoved itself out of her, the force of it prying her mouth open without her consent. Clary was so surprised she didn't even have time to protest as she buckled to the ground, her knees taking the brunt of the impact but that didn't stop the rest of her body as she threw up all she had, tears pouring out of her eyes as vomit scorched her mouth and nose. When her body was finished, Clary only had enough strength to scoot away from the mess she made. She turned her head, allowing her gaze to shift on the knife she had dropped. Seeing it filled her with disgust, and she had the errant thought that Jace would scold her for carrying such a puny knife.

Clary took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. She flexed her fingers, surprised at the pins and needles sensation that went through them as she picked up the knife and curled it into her hand. She felt light and insubstantial as she stood up and pushed her mind away from what was lying behind her as she wobbled out of the room and into a corridor. Clary's eyes darted in their sockets of their own accord and she raised the knife higher. Her whole body trembled in anticipation of attack and the sudden wrench of steel far above her made her shout and race away, trying to see what made the noise. Whatever was happening up on the deck had made the whole ship tremble and Clary hurried forward as if sky would fall at any minute.

She slowed to a walk, noticing a small ridge of steel that swelled away from the rest of the wall, and it seemed to lead to another corridor. Clary wondered if it led to the catwalk that was swaying above her. Something rustled in the alcove, and it was more out of instinct than sound that told her something living was just around the corner. Clary trembled as she raised her knife higher, briefly closing her eyes in preparation. She shifted her stance, tensing her body into silence as she twisted her body. Clary suddenly whirled, moving faster than she thought possible and bringing her knife plunging downwards. It whooshed in the air, as she felt the electric buzz of energy of another blade go past her, but suddenly pull up and hover by her face.

"Clary?"

Clary blinked, everything came back into focus and she saw Jace staring back at her, their weapons inches apart, even though Jace had pulled his weapon back and was lowering his arm. He peered into her face and slowly grabbed her arm. Clary flinched in shock, and she recoiled from Jace's hurt but sympathetic expression. Jace pried the knife from her fingers and eyed it critically and turned to Clary.

"What did you think you were going to do with this?"

It was so close to what Clary pictured what he would say about her knife given the chance that she laughed. It filled her up, almost painfully as she burst with it, doubling over and when she looked at his surprised look, she collapsed into fresh giggles. It was so absurd, so out of place that it was somehow funny.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I found Maia." She blurted out.

Jace blanched. "How is that funny?"

Clary sobered instantly. "It isn't…it's just…I'll explain it later."

Jace nodded, and then began to speak. "Listen I-"

A sudden scream stopped them in their tracks, and Clary only just then realized that she and Jace had moved forward to each other, and she quickly stepped back another pace. Terror seized her; she'd recognize that voice from anywhere.

"Simon." She breathed.

Jace looked at her sharply, and when she met his eyes again, she'd didn't see surprise. Suspicion rose up in her against her will, and she clenched her fist hard to make it disappear. She recalled Simon's words and resisted the idea to hit him, despite everything. Jace wordlessly handed back her knife, and Clary felt she owed it to Simon to look Jace in the eye.

"Where?" she asked.

Jace frowned. "Sounded like it was in front of us, probably only a couple of hundred feet ahead."

Clary didn't need to hear another word. She sprinted down the hall, Jace easily catching up to her, and Clary saw his seraph blade shining and she wished she had brought her own. She knew they were running back the way she came, and with a sinking feeling she knew which room they had to get to.

"Simon!" she shouted.

She dashed into the room, and this time she did scream. Simon was lying on the ground in a messy sprawl, the gash on his throat and wrists fresh and sore. Clary's knife clattered on the ground, it was the only sound she heard, her screams only intensifying when Jace grabbed a hold of her shoulders and murmured things in her ear, but she didn't know what they were. Even Jace didn't have enough strength to keep her from Simon, and Clary knelt down beside him. She felt the keening rise up in her chest, the familiar whine and thrum of agony resonating inside her. Slowly she felt her head sink down onto Simon's chest as if she was pushing herself underwater.

Jace was kneeling across from her, his fingers about Simon's neck and she was too tired to scream at him that it _was too late_ for that, but his eyes widened and he looked up sharply at Clary.

"Clary."

When she didn't reply, she felt Jace's strong hands grab her shoulders and force her gaze to his.

"Clary, he's still alive. There is a pulse. Its faint, but it's there. Clary _Simon is alive._"

"What?"

"Listen."

Clary and Jace put their heads together, and Clary's ear hovered over Simon's mouth. Tiny warm air tickled her ear, the warmth vibrating into her eardrums. Now the faint rattle of inhalation could be heard. Clary's head jerked up and she realized Jace had been waiting for her to move so he could continue.

"Vampires are a bit like cars, they run on blood the same way that oil is needed for a car to function. Clary, all he needs is blood."

Before she could reply, Jace picked up his knife and slid the blade against his wrist. She couldn't help the little gasp that came out of her as she saw Jace's blood run parallel to the knife's blade and slide down his forearm. Leaning over, Jace held his bleeding wrist over Simon's mouth, letting it hover inches above Simon's lips. Droplets of blood pattered over Simon's lips, the only color on his face. There was no response, and Clary just barely stopped herself from screaming.

"C'om on drink." Jace urged.

Jace angrily pressed his wrist against Simon's mouth, managing to pry open Simon's unresponsive lips with just a quick jiggle of his wrist. Jace shook his wrist inside Simon's mouth with a slight growl. Simon's lips twitched and finally pursed. There was a tiny nicking sound of skin being scraped, and from Jace's reflexive wince, Simon had just bit down on Jace's wrist. Clary flinched from the gentle sucking and gulping sounds, but couldn't tear her eyes away when Simon's hands shakily rose up and felt for Jace's arm. Jace made no protest as Simon gripped Jace's arm and pressed it hard to his mouth. Simon's eyelids fluttered as if he was merely in REM sleep, still too deep in dreamland to fully awaken.

Clary watched transfixed as Simons expression began to get more fierce, eyebrows furrowing and a sudden grunt made her jump. Jace was watching the change with impassive eyes, and Clary flinched but didn't look away when Jace leveled his gaze to hers. The gold of his eyes looked strangely mellow, almost protective, but she couldn't understand why it made an earthquake in her body. Simon suddenly growled, moving as if in sleepwalk, his hands going up to Jace's shoulders. Jace grunted, so Clary assumed Simon's grip was strong.

Simon pulled himself away from Jace's wrist, his eyes hanging at a sleepy half-mast. Clary suddenly flashed back to when she and Simon were little kids, back when they still had sleepovers and they'd wake up early for the Saturday morning cartoons, still rubbing their eyes even as they hurried to grab their bowls of cereal and hunt down the remote. It was the same sleepy stare that he now gave Jace. So that was why Clary shrieked in surprised when Simon sank his teeth into Jace's neck.

Clary darted forward, trying to pry them apart but she was pushed back by Simon's arm as it shot forward, catching her in the stomach. Clary made a move to try again, but Jace Spoke to her, his voice strained. Clary winched at the Simon's enthusiastic slurping noises.

"No, it's alright I-ahhh, just let him. It's only his instincts-sarrrrgh." Jace grunted. "It's telling him to go for the major arteries….ohhhhhhh. Nnnnghhg, don't try to stop him." Jace groaned.

Jace stopped wincing and his eyes fluttered. He not only let Simon pin him in place, but even pulled Simon closer to him. Jace was starting to go slack, his skin becoming dangerously pale. Clary went against Jace's advice and went to pry the two of them apart, but before she could do anything, Simon suddenly sprang back, flushed and wide eyed. He was panting, and Clary's stomach rolled when she saw the blood still inside Simon's mouth. The slash on Simon's neck was healing right before her eyes, sewing itself back up, almost as if it never happened. His skin was returning to its normal color, and Clary was overjoyed, but the fury in Simon's eyes refrained her from going to him. Simon glared at Jace.

"I could have killed you." Simon said.

Jace nodded. "I would have let you."

"Maybe I should have."

Clary tensed as the two stared at each other, not speaking. Simon's jaw was flexing as if he was indeed contemplating finishing what he started. She was rooted to the spot; both of them had already given up so much, most of it for her. Both of them caring for her in two separate ways, and she suddenly recalled why Simon spoke so carefully about trust, but between the three of them they made enough mistakes for it to not matter. Clary wondered not for the first time, which boy she was really in love with, and the answer became clear. Her heart was thudding with an odd painful joy. Both of them were alive and in her veins was the song of anger. Maia had to be avenged, but Jace's eyes still had that hunted look.

"Oh Jace, what were you thinking?" Clary asked.

Jace tore his eyes away from Simon to regard Clary. His eyes sparked. Clary was startled by the way they were going to back down, despite having a trace of desperation to them. Clary nodded to herself. He was becoming his old self again.

"I was thinking he is my father. I thought that would be enough. I was wrong." He said in clear and quiet voice.

"You killed Maia." Simon pointed out.

"I know and I'm sorry. I know now that I could never be alongside Valentine, and she paid the price for it."

"So let's put an end to this-that'll be the only way for it to count for something." Clary said.

Clary watched as Jace and Simon stood up and the two of them extended their hands for her to take.

SPNTMI

Shadowhunters were scattered over the deck, and the smell of gasoline soaked the air as a huge barrier of metal crashed onto deck, cracking open and spilling its contents everywhere. The breeze made the stench grow stronger.

SPNTMI

Clary followed Jace farther down the hall, with Simon keeping pace behind her. Jace's eyes narrowed and he lead them to what would have been a dead end if not for the ladder that led upwards. Jace climbed that ladder, peering up and scooted back down and nodded to Simon, who sprinted down the left side down the hall they came from. Clary could just make out Simon climbing up another ladder before he jumped onto a large pipe on the ceiling before he wriggled out of sight.

Jace climbed back up the ladder and Clary hurriedly grabbed onto the rungs. She pulled herself up onto the floor. The smell was awful and it didn't take her long to realize why. Four basins stood in the center of the room, filled to the brim with blood. The first two were already so dry that the colors were more of a rusty brown, with crust clinging to the rims of the basin. The third was already discolored, the brightness fading already as it stuck to the insides of the steel basin. Strange blooming spots dotted the surface, but Clary didn't care to know what it was, and in the fourth basin was the freshest blood as well. Still a vivid red, there was a slight steam rising from it. Clary walked forward and but her hand hover over the surface and was surprised that it wasn't giving off any heat.

"Clary."

She turned to look at Jace, who had gone pale. He pointed at the table that was behind them, bundles of stained white sheets lay together on the table, and one of them obviously covered something very long underneath it. Clary didn't need Jace to tell her what this place was, she already knew. The basins were about as tall as she was, and she especially knew what was in the fourth basin. This was the room where Valentine performed the ritual, draining all the blood he ever needed. Clary walked to the benches behind the basins and with trembling fingers brushed the white sheets, flinching when she touched the spots of dried blood. The material felt course underneath her hands and taking a breath, Clary pulled the sheets back. She gasped.

The soul sword Maellartach lay there, shining with subdued menace. Clary felt her eyes tugged to it, unable to look away. There was not a drop of blood anywhere on it. Clary slowly reached for it, her fingers grasping the hilt.

"That is not meant for you."

Clary spun around to see Valentine standing before them. Jace seemed rooted to the spot, rapidly looking back and forth between Clary and Valentine. Valentine smiled as if this was a pleasant surprise.

"Clarissa, I've been meaning to see more of you and here you are."

"What?"

"I feel as if I have neglected having a hand in your upbringing."

"My upbringing's fine no thanks to you." She snapped.

Valentine sighed. "Clarissa my one regret is that Jocelyn and I did not come to get to raise you in a way befit your people. If I am to blame for one thing it is that you never grew accustomed to your brother-"

Clary grabbed the sword, gripping the handle tight and struggled to lift it. She managed to heft it, leveling it in Valentine's direction. The sword made her arms buzz and her head swim. Her ears began to ring and she could help feel a thrill of something familiar as the sword pulled her downward. Her body felt like had been plunged into ice water. Something vast was prickling at the edges of her vision. It was dark but lit up by brilliant points of light, the lines curving and broad. It was beautiful and Clary couldn't see anymore, but the strange longing persisted. She blinked as spots swam in her vision briefly before her vision completely cleared. She pointed the sword at Valentine.

"Don't talk to me about Jace."

"I simply meant that there are certainly some things I should have foreseen since you have been raised apart, something that no sibling deserves."

"You did me a favor by not raising me." Clary snapped. "My mother was overjoyed that you were out of her life."

"Clarissa… "

Valentine advanced. Jace moved at the same time, his hand moving for something. Clary felt a shiver of fear, the sword suddenly too heavy, and for the first time she felt uneasy holding it. Valentine was right-it wasn't meant for her. She gritted her teeth; she wasn't about to throw down a weapon at Valentine's feet, so she tried to raise it higher.

"How did you even find us?" she asked.

"I am aware of everything that goes on in my ship."

"Apparently not." said Simon.

Valentine didn't even turn around as Simon stood behind him. Clary looked up to see the ventilation shaft right above where Simon was standing. Valentine didn't appear to be fazed. He merely glanced back at Simon and then to Clary, his gaze considering.

"Hmm. Perhaps. Tell me, how is it that you are alive? I' am quite certain I drained you of all your blood." He asked.

"Not certain enough father." Jace spoke up.

Jace's voice sounded tense, almost shaky, but he held up his wrist. It was heavily bruised an ugly purple, but in the center were two red and swollen puncture marks, and surrounding them a ring of teeth marks. It stood out against the pale gold of Jace's skin. Valentine stared as if hypnotized at the sight. His jaw clenched and his eyes did not widen, but merely became colder, but was ghosted over and replaced by a serene calculation.

"My my I cannot fathom why I have such disrespectful children. If only things could go back to a much simpler time. "

With blinding speed, Valentine reached for the sword. With a scream she slashed it downwards, only to have Valentine grab the blade with his bare hand. A sliver of blood welled in his palm where the blade rested. With a sharp tug, it came out of Clary's grasp and Valentine swung the sword around so that the hilt and pommel grazed her temple. Clary stumbled back from the blow, crashing into the table and causing the white sheets to settle on her and she shoved them off her frantically. The sword swung up in a high arc and as it began to fall, Valentine seemingly plucked it out of the air, catching it by the hilt and sweeping it in Simon's direction. The point of the sword pricked Simon's Adam's apple. It only took moments for Valentine to take control of the situation.

"Jonathan it is not too late to rectify this situation. Finish what I started with this revenant and all will be forgiven."

Clary tried to control her breathing-she had no weapon, but Valentine was leveling the most powerful weapon in the room at Simon, and all he had was his teeth, but he was looking murderous enough to try them out. Jace raised his seraph blade, fixing it at Simon and as he shifted his weight he pulled a knife out of his boot. Clary recognized it as the one she had been using. He must have picked it up after she dropped it. This blade he pointed at Valentine. Jace clenched his jaw tight and his eyes were bright and brittle. Neither Valentine nor Simon moved.

Clary stood straighter, trying to get closer but as soon as she did, Jace pointed the dagger at her. She froze and he bowed his head, a vein pulsing in his temple. Valentine stared at Jace, his expression inscrutable. Clary hung on for the next words, trembling. Jace looked up, his eyes seemed to burn. He looked at Simon first with hard eyes, but when his gaze swiveled to her it all changed. It was a look full of confidence and affection. Its warmth was directed fully on her and Clary shivered. When Jace turned to regard his father, the affection was still there, but marred with wariness and disappointment. In one deft move, Jace pulled back the hand holding the dagger and held it high, waving it briefly to let them see what he was doing and dropped it to the floor.

Jace gave Valentine a sad smile. "Oh Father." His smile dropped. "His name is Simon."

Jace's hand blurred, fingers curling and then shooting out. Clary watched him toss whatever it was to her and her hands opened up almost of their own free will, the slim object falling into her hands. Clary fingered the clear glass. She didn't know why or how Jace had gotten a hold of her _stele_, but she didn't care. She knew what she had to do. Clary didn't bother watching as both Simon and Jace tackled Valentine, who swung the sword at them.

Clary rushed past them, ignoring the struggling that ensued. Clary didn't stop running until she was across the room and slamming her palms onto the steel of the wall. Clary was sure, her hand steady as she pushed the tip of her _stele_ the steel hull. Clary tuned all sounds out, leaving only a buzzing sound that hummed throughout her body so strongly, like standing too close to an electric fence. The tip of her _stele_ burned an intense white and she put in all her emotions. They roiled up in her, tumbling too fast and intense that she couldn't name them all as they poured out of her as though lightning was rippling out of her like her body was a conductor. Her head was beginning to ache, but beneath that she could hear a small voice in her mind urging her on. It could have been her own, her mother's, or perhaps someone else entirely.

Clary's hands danced over the metal surface, burning the word deep onto the hull. The movements making her arm ache, her whole body shaking and she felt the heat rise up inside. Her mouth opened and threw back her head. It was all coursing through her and going into her hand and flowing into her _stele_ and writing the oldest language there had ever been. She chanted the word 'open' over and over again. She was writing so fast it felt like someone had taken control of her arm and sped it over the metal.

The metal burned underneath the _stele_, melting and charring at the edges.

'_Good. Let this place burn.'_

On the last piece of the word, she pressed the tip of the _stele_ so hard that she thought it would weld itself onto the surface of the hull. With one last burst of power that flowed out of her, the hum went along with it, leaving her mind reeling but clear. As it emptied out of her, Clary was almost sad to see it go. She felt herself sway, light and odd. She turned to the three of them, now aware that they were all staring at her. Valentine was looking at her with a look of elated horror. His smile blew into something satisfied even as the wariness in his eyes became more pronounced as it morphed even further into a wide smile that looked almost Jace like, and it took her a moment to realized that it was an expression Jace wore whenever he felt self-deprecating, but Valentine looked as though he were about to laugh.

Simon exhaled loudly, but his voice was soft when he finally spoke.

"What does it say?" he asked.

"Open." Clary said.

At her words, a keening noise began to echo in the room. A tinny pop was heard and something fell onto the floor. As if rendered immobile, the three men stared at what rolled at their feet. It stopped at Jace's boot, and he bent down to pick it up. He turned over the tiny screw in his hands. Multiple popping noises made them look up, spell bound. Suddenly, screws began to fly out from all directions and they ducked as the screws hit the metal, clanging angrily. The bulkheads groaned and were accompanied by the sound of hissing water.

The room began to shudder as if it was being compressed too tightly. The metal crumpled, as if giant was punching a tin can. Simon yelled in alarm as Jace dived for the sword. Valentine swatted Jace easily aside, scooping up the sword and sheathing it.

"We have to get out of here!" Simon shouted.

"It is too late for that." Valentine said his voice oddly triumphant.

At his words, one of the large punched in sections burst, water pouring into the room. It flowed steadily in, the room beginning to tilt. The basins were overturning, the remaining blood spilling out of them. Cold seeped into her knees and Clary tilted as the whole room began to move, more water punching into the hull, the sound deeper than thunder. Beyond it, Clary could hear the cracking of pipes and the resulting spray. The booming crunch of pillars were being uprooted and the acerbic swinging of chains being pulled out of their bearings, followed by the collapsing catwalks but Clary couldn't see any farther. She was being pulled to the ever widening hole, the cold air pulling her in and tumbling over on her heels and over her head. Simon jostled into her, rolling helplessly beside her. She felt him to try to make a grab for her, and Clary only had time to pocket her _stele_ before her fingers missed his jacket by inches. The hole loomed forward, the suction leaving her helpless. Clary saw the curling edges of the blown metal, looking as weak as paper. She caught an edge, holding on for dear life. Clary tried to shout, but only succeeded in swallowing water. The water splashed into her eyes, and the last thing she clearly saw was Jace reaching for her as her fingers slipped and she tumbled out in open water.

SPNTMI

The cold struck her like a blow as the water seared her lungs. Clary thrashed, trying to escape the pull that was taking her farther away from the surface. The water tugged her in any direction it chose, moving her like a fish on a hook. Her eyes fluttered, stinging from the water that pressed into her eyeballs and blurred her vision. Her ribcage crushed her body, boxed in from the weight of the water intent on destroying her. She clamped her lips shut, trying to blow the water out of her nose, making her head spin from the constant exhaling. Bubbles rose up to the surface; she could see their journey to the top.

The surface of the water skated over her vision, the stars peeking out and gently fading out. The voice in her mind screamed at her sluggish limbs to move faster. Her head was beginning to pound, and she swiveled as her line of sight was drawn to a sudden brightness below the churning waves. It took her a moment to realize it was fire. It was plunging into the water, taking a long time to extinguish. Smoke surrounded her and one piece of fire crashed beside her, the force of it creating a small wave that pushed her back. Clary could still feel the heat from the distance, burning her with the heat the water briefly absorbed. Smoke surrounded her, bubbles brushing against her face.

Her hands pushed the smoke out of her way, and her legs kicked feebly as more falling pieces of fire surrounded her. Clary could just barely make out a large shadow in front of her. Something was on the surface of the water and something told her to swim for it. The current was buffeting her away from it, but Clary struggled, her limbs spastically tugging outwards of the current. Another ball of flame slammed into the water, close enough that the force of its impact rocketed Clary onto a wave, pushing her upwards and her hands treaded to the surface. She could make out images on the surface, swirling up to meet her. The remaining fire behind her lit up a figure above the surface and Clary could see the long hair cascading down it, slim arms opening up. Clary kicked harder, feeling the chill of the air on her hands before much warmer slim hands grabbed her hard and pulled.

Clary's head broke the surface of the water. Taking huge gulps of air, she felt multiple hands pulling her up and when her knees hit rigid metal, she shivered all over. Her teeth hurt from their violent chattering and she swayed wiping her eyes. She was in Luke's truck bed and she was not alone. The first person who pulled her up was a woman with silver hair. Next to her was Cas, and next to him were Sam and Dean. Luke was beside Sam, and across from them Isabelle was in the middle of Alec and Jace. Magnus and Simon sat in the middle; both of them had their backs resting against the cab. Ellen and Jo were in the front, with Ellen behind the wheel and Jo slumped in the passenger seat.

Clary noticed that only Sam seemed unhurt. Alec was pressing Luke's shirt into Isabelle's neck. Sam was turned to Luke, his hands pressed on Luke's leg and from the grimace on Luke's face it was agonizing. Dean looked exhausted, his eyes moving back and forth from Sam to Cas, who was cradling his burned hand. Jace was badly bruised and his attention was on Isabelle. Magnus looked even more exhausted than Dean, and he focused on Alec, who seemed just as bruised as Jace. When Clary's eyes finally met Simon's she smiled. He didn't seem too badly hurt and he smiled readily back to her.

Clary scooted closer to him, passing the silver haired woman who touched her shoulder as Clary moved to Simon's side. She put her head on his shoulder, finally letting herself feel relief. Simon put his arm around her. His steady breathing told her it was going to be alright. A sudden blaze of fire plummeted into the water, crashing close enough to create waves and upend the truck. Clary felt another jolt of movement as Ellen put the truck into gear, but Clary wasn't paying attention to that. She looked out to the ship and the skyline.

The ship was blown halfway to pieces, the top half destroyed. Fire raged on the deck, illuminating the wreckage it was causing. Minor explosions caused fiery chucks of debris to soar into the air and land in the water or smolder on the decks of other ships. The smoke was thick and greasy, the smell of oil permeating the air. The smoke was blotting out the pink sky and Clary could no longer see the stars. The sky was lit up, the fire looking brighter, and small shafts of light pierced the smoke. Clary squinted as the sky grew paler, the colors of orange, pink, and gold as the sun began to rise.

Clary heard Simon's sharp intake of breath and she turned around to see him blanch. She slowly took in his horrified expression and then swiveled back to see the sun beginning to peek out over the horizon. Clary screamed.

"The sun!"

Jace glanced sharply at Clary and Simon. Magnus leaned over and rapped sharply on the window of the cab and spoke quickly to Ellen, who pushed on the gas. However the weight of so many people in the truck bed slowed it down. Jo opened the back window with a wince.

"What does he need?" she asked.

"Something to block the sun." Clary replied.

Sam shrugged off his jacket and gestured to Cas to take off his trench coat. Jo pulled a blanket out of the cab. Jace stared at Clary and shook his head.

"That won't work. He needs to be inside a building."

"We just have to drive faster than!" Clary cried.

"The pedal's practically touching the floor." Ellen called.

"Cover him anyway." Jo added.

The beginnings of sunlight started to break the smoke apart, the light was coming in fast. Jo shouted in alarm as Simon raised his arms and Clary shifted on top of Simon to cover him. Clary glared at the sky, not caring that she was hurting her eyes. She jumped when she felt Simon's hands on her shoulders. Simon turned Clary to face him. Simon's fingers massaged Clary's shoulders, brushing up to her collarbone, and worked his way up to her face. His hands were cool and firm, making Clary shiver under his touch. She couldn't help but gasp, her teeth chattering. His dark eyes locked onto her and she found it impossible to look away. Clary knew this was his way of saying goodbye.

"No."

"Clary listen."

"Simon-"

"No really, it'll be alright." Simon smiled. "I'm ok with it."

"But I'm not!" Clary shouted.

Simon pulled Clary close enough so that their foreheads touched. Clary blinked away the blurriness that was in her eyes and felt the hot trail slide down her face. Her heart was being pulled out of her, leaving a messy trail in her throat. The chill of the air burned in her lungs and crackled around her ribs like electricity. Simon's hands felt like the only real thing, keeping her from ripped apart. Except what would happen if he stopped holding her in place? Every part of her howled to keep him in the world, anchored in place beside her. She choked, unable to let out the strangling feeling and wrapped her arms around Simon. She felt his breath on her face, cool and fragrant with a sweet spiciness that was distinctly Simon. She breathed in, trembling with the knowledge that this was the last time she would feel it on her face, see his lips form the words, hear him talk.

"Clary, I love you."

Clary inhaled so sharply, she almost whined. She could feel something vital being ripped out of her she wished it was something else that she wanted out of her. She nodded frantically, and instead of the words she wanted to say, something else came out in its place.

"Please don't-this isn't over."

Simon continued. "And I always will and I'll never stop."

"Simon."

When she said his name, it felt like a benediction and a goodbye all at once. The sun was at her back, its warmth boring into her back, threatening to drill a hole into her spine. If sunlight had a sound, it was the heavy chime of a grandfather clock. The sunlight broke into fragments on her back, shooting past her and hitting Simon. The light illuminated every strand of hair, blanketing her skin, and lit up his eyes. There was no way of stopping the sun. Clary moaned, screwing her eyes tight, not willing to watch Simon incinerate before her eyes. She jumped when she heard Simon inhale sharply.

"Clary." He breathed.

She squinted, not wanting to see a charred Simon, but her eyes flew open. She stared. Simon was whole and intact with not a mark on him. Simon held up his hands, letting the sunlight him them and they stayed the same as they were before with nothing to mar them. Simon flexed his fingers and waved his hand, staring at them in awe before looking back at Clary with an incredulous smile. He took a shaking breath, his smile morphing into something gentler. Clary felt something inside her break and relief flooded through her, a much warmer river than the one she was floating on. Clary finally cried out, the sound indefinable, as it contained all the sounds a human being could make. She tightened her grip on Simon, wrapping her arms further around him and pressed him to her. Clary felt his arms go around her, sure and steady. His face buried in the crook of her neck, and she loved the weight of him beside her. Clary just lowered her eyes to see Simon's back, far broader than she remembered it to be and she vowed that she would pay attention to every little detail from now on. She'd always watch Simon, protect him, and look at him. Clary's focal point narrowed down to Simon and she just held him closer. She didn't care about anything but him, not even the sunrise that was probably the most beautiful she'd ever see.

**TBC…. **


	6. If they did not meet

**Disclaimer: Don't own either series; no profit gained what so ever. **

**Word count: 12,550**

**Enjoy! **

Chapter 6: If they did not Meet

Clary walked to Simon's house, her sneakers crunching over the pavement, she ignored the blaring sirens in the distance as she went past the news stand and crossed the street. The daylight made her eyes water in the crisp air. The pale sky seemed to threaten rain, but not even a breeze threatened the pedestrians going about their daily business. It had been a week since Valentine's ship was destroyed. Since _she_ had destroyed it. Clary trembled just thinking about it. The fire that had ravaged itself on the deck hadn't been her doing, but the way the ship had come to pieces was. The sound of the rivets shooting out of their places and the water wresting control of the ship. The feeling of being swept away, limbs flailing and unable to get enough air as though she'd never breathe again, pulled deeper down. Her body was just a toy to a force much greater than herself. Clary felt the raw force slam into her, sliding above and below her as though she was a cell in the bloodstream of a powerful beast. Even though her lungs were seared and her eyes aching from the blurry sight of her half squinted eyes, she felt something.

There was something that she only realized in retrospect. She had been left in awe, as the chunks of fire plummeted into the water, almost as if they had been ripped away from the sky itself. The brightness hurt to look at, lighting her vision all the way to her eyes sockets and she felt painful recognition and longing. Although she couldn't put her finger on it and that was the frustrating part. As soon as a reasonable explanation came up, the feeling vanished. Almost like the fire doused in water, the smoke clouding her thoughts. That was a close as she could get to remembering. That following week was uneventful, yet strange for both the same reason. After the ship broke, Clary woke up the next day feeling so weak and dizzy that at first she thought she must have gotten sick from being in the water for so long. A visit from Magnus told her otherwise, as she had used too much of her abilities. Clary didn't know that could happen and she ended up having to lie in bed a couple of days. Other than that, nothing much happened. Everything went back to normal, which was what made it so strange.

There was no word of Valentine, it was so quiet. Nothing stirred in Downworld, not a thing. Luke didn't say much, but Clary could sense his frustration and behind that, the frustration of the other Shadowhunters. Valentine loose was cause for alarm, with or without the soul-sword. Clary agreed with Luke when he had said that it was safer to assume that Valentine was alive and probably with the sword. Clary wrapped her arms around herself, her jacket unable to ward off this particular chill. Now that she was up and about the first thing she wanted to do was see Simon. She hadn't gotten a chance all week, but now she eagerly walked over.

As far as she knew, Simon had gone back to school but Clary hadn't pressed for details. She smiled, she'd get them. Knocking on the familiar red door, she was greeted by Simon's mom. Mrs. Lewis smiled when she saw Clary.

"Oh hello Clary, it's nice to see you again. Come on in." She led Clary into the cluttered living room. "Simon told me you hadn't been feeling well, so it's nice to see you up and about."

"Thanks Mrs. Lewis. It's good to be up."

Mrs. Lewis smiled again. "I bet. Simon's just outside. I'll bring you guys some lemonade here in a bit."

"Thanks so much." Clary grinned at Mrs. Lewis.

Clary shut the back door behind her, careful not to slam it. The Lewis' backyard was small, they were lucky to even have one but it was a cute one. An old trampoline was still in the back from the days when Clary and Simon were kids. It was how they passed many a summer day. There was a small flower bed from when Simon's mom still tried to grow flowers, although now it was taken over by weeds. Occasionally she'd try to get Simon or his sister to pull them up, but it hardly worked. Now the weeds were dying like the rest of the greenery in the yard. Her shoes crunched over the leaves that were just beginning to fall, their colors paler than the reds and golds that still clung to the trees branches.

Simon was in the center of the yard, lounging on a blue, plastic beach deck chair. He had it reclining as far as it could go. He was lying back, in full view of the sun. His eyes were closed, face smooth and youthful, illuminated by the sun's glow. He looked so peaceful, but a sudden horrible jolt coursed through her when she realized that his face would always look youthful. Simon blinked, lifting his head. His eyes were half lidded from sunshine and sleep. He smiled, looking even younger by the sweetness of the cheer in his face.

"Hey. I thought I heard you."

"I didn't say anything."

"I could hear you breathing."

"That's not creepy at all."

Clary sat down next Simon, the crisp grass crackled around her legs. She leaded back, the rungs of the beach chair digging into her back like an anchor. With her arms wrapped around her legs, she sighed as the sunlight warmed her skin and chased her chills away. Since Simon was this close to her, her pulse thrummed happily to know that he was alive. Nice and familiar to be back side by side in his backyard again.

"No more creepy than Valentine's disappearance."

"Ugh. Do we have to talk about this?"

"Not really, but there is something I want to talk about with you."

"Shoot."

"I think it'd be a good idea if we didn't see each other."

Clary swiveled to face Simon, suddenly feeling sicker than she did last week. Cold all over and dizzy, she could feel the color drain from her face. She almost doubled over as though a boot had kicked in the stomach, almost to the point that she could throw up on the spot. She licked her lips, wondering if she could speak. Clary had trouble focusing and she had to trust her voice to do what her eyes couldn't.

"What?" she squeaked. "Is it the fighting, because if you want I can make sure that you never have to fight again-"

"It's not that."

"Then what? I don't blame you for not wanting to be with me, because I've done nothing but put you in danger and ruin your life-"

Simon's cold hands clasped on her shoulders and she gasped. They never felt that way before, back when he was human. Back when he still had a life that wasn't filled with bloodshed and crazy Shadowhunter plots. All that normal ripped away and all of it her fault. His grip tightened and the chills penetrated her bones. She looked him in the eyes, the bright light hurting her eyes. Even with the sun, his face couldn't be obscured. The light lit up his hair catching in the strands of it and giving it a polish. His dark hair was mussed, giving him a sleepy halo. His face was a bit more angular it seemed, but then sometimes he'd turn his head and she thought that she imagined it. His newfound beauty seemed like an illusion, or maybe she was just in denial. Every time she looked at him, he'd turn and she'd see a new angle of him. It was like trying to catch water. His skin was paler, the faint tracing of veins snaking into sight. It somehow didn't detract his appearance. It was only by looking into Simon's eyes that Clary could read anything. They were so lustrous and dark, as though they never ended and they flashed in the sunlight, revealing the hidden shades that gave them the deep coffee brown and burnt bark of a tree in winter. Clary blinked because it was hard to concentrate when Simon stared at her so intently, a sad smile on his full, plump lips. The rest of his expression seemed aghast.

"I didn't mean that I want to stop being your friend. Just that I think we shouldn't date anymore."

Relief so profound, she actually staggered when the sick feeling left and became flooded with a sad kind of understanding. Simon continued.

"I mean I'm glad we tried an' all, but I guess it just wasn't meant to be."

Clary felt defensive, agitated on their behalf. "Why not?"

Simon rubbed her shoulders. "Probably because there is someone else you love."

Clary tensed. "I love you."

"But not in that way." Simon said.

"I could. I want to."

Clary scooted forward as Simon gave her a rueful smile. Suddenly, he seemed taller, older, and maybe a bit wiser. Clary tilted her head, trying to pinpoint when it was that Simon had grown up without her. It made her realize she was saying goodbye to the old Simon and that this was the end of something between them. So Clary wondered when it would happen to her, if she could catch up to him, so she leaned forward, pressing her lips to Simon's. They were lush and cool, open with surprise. She pressed firmly, happy to for the soft response of flesh touching flesh. This would always be comforting, easy. Maybe it was because they would always be a part of each other. Simon gently pushed Clary back, smile still sad.

"We've been down this road before. I don't want to go down it again."

"Is it because of Jace?"

"Only a little."

"It's wrong."

"It's not like you planned on it, it's just something that happened."

"It shouldn't have."

"You should stop blaming yourself. It's not your fault and neither is what has happened to me."

Clary blinked, her mouth opening slightly. Simon grinned in response. Clary knew that it meant that he knew he took her off guard with his insight. Clary nodded to him in reassurance. They were good. Simon suddenly stood up, looking very pleased with himself. Clary looked up at him, tilting her head.

"It's not fair that you're so grown up now." she teased.

"You've got plenty of time to catch up." he grinned.

It was like the sunlight pushed back the clouds and somehow froze this moment in time with its beams. Almost as if this were just another day, but everything had changed and yet it was as if the moment itself was telling Clary that it was alright. She could feel a small part of her mind preserve this moment, with such a bittersweet joy that it made her breath hitch. Yet…Clary smiled, she didn't want to lose this feeling ever again and she wanted to feel every bit of joy that could be gleaned. So she willed herself to laugh and was at ease when Simon joined her. Everything would be alright. Simon tilted his head to regard her, the sunlight dancing in his eyes as they reflected more than just light.

"Now that you're all cheered up, I better get going."

"Get going?"

"Yeah, I told Jo I'd help her and her mom look for their car."

"Tell them I said hi."

Clary watched Simon heave himself off his makeshift lounge and stride across the lawn and into the house. She studied the broadness of his shoulders, wondering just when it was that they started to move with purpose.

SPNTMI

Beth Israel Hospital was a clean, efficient place and its halls becoming much too familiar path for Clary's feet. The nurses were becoming recognizable on a first name basis and Clary knew which vending machines had the better stuff, what was the best time to visit the cafeteria, Most of the time she went with Luke, since it seemed he didn't want to go by himself any more than she did.

Clary walked past ICU and gave a small wave to the nurses at their station. Going up the stairs and past the various departments, and the elevator that could at any moment, erupt with emergency activity. Once, Clary had caught a glimpse of the ER in a heated flurry of doctors, nurses, and victims from some horrific accident and was grateful to be led away by Luke. Now, the elevator was silent and Clary went over to the quiet niche where Jocelyn's room was. It was a small and unassuming little corner by the emergency fire escape, with this floor's nurse's station down the hall on the left hand side. This was where patients who weren't leaving any time soon were placed.

Despite this, it was busy-a hospital is never truly idle so Clary was used to hearing the hustle of the staff and their patients. There was a hush, like a weary sigh that went through the halls undetected by everyone but her. Clary was suddenly nervous. Luke had gone ahead of her and Clary now felt the childish desire to run after him, but she curbed it and willed herself to calm down.

There, like magic, was a woman with silver hair. Clary saw the woman's face float back into memory, like a dream, like ripples from water. She recognized this woman; she had been in the truck with her when the ship blew up. The world seemed to pass them by as a nurse in pale pink scrubs. Would the world end up passing Jocelyn by too? Suddenly, Clary didn't want to be afraid anymore and she strode up to the silver haired woman. The woman was young, at odds with the color of her hair; her eyes were wide and solemn. She was as slim as Jocelyn, but seemed somehow more real, more substantial than what Clary would have thought. Maybe it was because only Clary could see her, could connect with her when the rest of the world did not see her. Clary's footsteps echoed too loudly for her ears as though they shouted out her-her life was about to change. Her feet dragged her to her destination, a path that she could not identify and had no hope of finding out. Clary's head spun so fast that the feeling left her reeling, squinting heavily.

Clary's eyes blinked open and the harsh buzz of light seared her eyes, making her head spin. Nausea welled up within her and she felt too weak to stay up, the rubbing of her clothes on her back felt abrasive enough to give her chills. She took a steadying breath and the nausea subsided, letting her eyes crack open. Her eyes watered as she tried to stay rooted to the ground and she let the colors seep back into her vision. The noise of the hospital surrounded her as the daily current of patients, doctors, nurses, and visitors streamed through. The P.A. trilled, but Clary didn't bother listening.

Luke had gone on ahead only Clary was there to protect herself. Clary stared at the silver haired woman. Clary rubbed her forearm, somehow believing that she wouldn't have anything to fear. Clary willed the sick feeling to pass, focusing on the silver haired woman. She knew this had something to do with her mother. The woman went unnoticed by the rest of the bustle of the hospital and that proved she was glamoured to be unseen by mundanes. A man wearing scrubs walked right passed them without comment and Clary glared at the woman.

"I'm not in the mood for this. Who are you?"

Clary ignored the rest of her surroundings, pinpointing her stare to the woman, picturing her nailed in place by it. She seemed unperturbed by the glare, just saddened.

"My name is Madeleine and I know your mother."

"Okay…? Well you know that she's in a coma right?" Clary snapped.

"Not quite" Madeleine stated. "Her state has been artificially induced by a spell."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying Jocelyn put herself in this state."

Clary lurched forward, grabbing Madeleine by the arms, hard enough to bruise. Madeleine didn't seem fazed and stared back at Clary. Her gaze was still piercing, but somehow soft. Maybe that was why Clary relaxed her grip. There was something about the expression Madeleine made that held Clary back, kept her from shouting at the older woman. When another nurse walked by, Clary felt oddly sick. How could anyone stand to glamour themselves just because they didn't want to be seen? An odd thought flashed through her-would the world pass her by, leaving her to just watch as people would stare past her and hurrying on with their lives. Intellectually, Clary knew people would do that regardless of whether or not they could physically see her or not, but either way-the perceived rejection hurt.

"Let's do this in private."

"Oh…alright then."

Clary strode forward and then had to bite back the irritated sigh at Madeleine's speed; the woman caught up easily to Clary's stride. Clary scowled. She had no real idea where she wanted to go, but it seemed Madeleine did. She made a beeline for Jocelyn's room, finding it as easily as Clary had. Clary was relieved that Luke was not in the room.

_'Must have gone to get more coffee.' _Clary thought.

Either way she was glad Luke wasn't here. This felt private for some reason, and she couldn't bring herself to break that kind of spell. Madeleine turned to look at Jocelyn as Clary shut the door, but she didn't miss the look the older woman gave to her mother. It was the equivalent of a too full cup and Clary almost felt bad for seeing it but it was what clinched it for Clary. This was the moment when she decided that she would trust Madeleine no matter what. She watched Madeleine sit down, her chair close to Jocelyn, but her sights were set on Clary. Her hands were resting in her lap, and Clary let herself get mesmerized by the scars crisscrossing along Madeleine's palms and wrists.

She was sitting firmly, with squared shoulders and her lips were closed. Clary stayed silent, feeling the hairs on her neck stand up. Licking her lips, she could have sworn she tasted copper. Clary carefully sat herself down and waited for Madeleine to speak. She swallowed once before speaking.

"I first met your mother when we were both children, before we went for schooling. We lived so close to each other that we could see each other every day and we spent as much time in each other's houses, almost more than our own homes. We shared everything. So it seemed only natural that we would train together as well. Of course, this held true for Lucien Greymark as well. There was a time when the three of us were inseparable. Despite everything, we were brought together in a way that no one ever had managed to replicate in our lives. Jocelyn came from a prestigious family, Lucien an undistinguished one and I from the middle ground of a plain but clever family. When we began our schooling, Jocelyn attracted a great deal of attention, but she never once left us behind."

She paused for breath, and Clary scooted her chair closer. Madeleine continued.

"Then he came along. Valentine." Madeleine frowned. "He wasn't quite the way you would see him as now…but there was something about him. He was charismatic; able to speak to you on a personal level…he had some kind of pull to him, so that you wanted to follow him. Even so, I never trusted him, not because of that-there were many people who had leadership material. There was something about his eyes that upset me."

Clary nodded her head rapidly, but Madeleine was still speaking.

"Either way, my thoughts on the matter didn't, well matter. Valentine had a following. Although at the time, his power had no political ties. He was a school-yard king and the classmates he gathered to him were a motley crew. Robert Lightwood, who was afraid of get marked, Maryse Trueblood whose brother had left the Clave to marry a mundane. Hodge Starkweather who was disliked by the majority of our classmates, and Lucien began to adore Valentine, and it seemed that it was reciprocated. It seemed that the whole school was enamored of him. All but Jocelyn and I. Valentine was interested in her even then, but Jocelyn was unimpressed. She had teased Lucien and the others for their admiration of Valentine. It was only after the death of Valentine's father that Jocelyn began to see him in a different light."

Madeleine continued. "It was how the two became close as our school days drew to a close. The two were constantly in each other's presence so no one was shocked when they announced that they would be married. Hearty congratulations were offered up, except from me. There was something about that man's eyes that unnerved me; his smile seemed too false even when he sounded sincere…" she trailed off, as if unsure how to continue.

"So basically it was a gut feeling…?" she could understand that, but…"One thing I don't get is why?" Clary struggled to elaborate. "From I've heard, everybody trusted Valentine, looked up to him-"

"Yes. By the time Valentine had graduated, he was already rising into the ranks of the Clave, but-" Madeleine interrupted herself. "But I'm getting ahead of myself. It was at school that Valentine had established his Circle; he had already voiced his ambitions to them. He had wanted to change the world."

Clary snorted.

"Yes. As strange as that may seem to you, the best of intentions were in mind. Our intentions of course, but intentions are never enough. Valentine was making waves so to speak."

"How?" Clary asked.

"By the way he wanted to change the Clave. To abolished the old-fashioned laws and even allow us to walk among mundanes. In those days, Downworlders were hardly ever mentioned. It seemed so reasonable…so right for so many." Madeleine sighed.

"I guess I should ask how something that didn't sound bad could turn out so wrong. How Valentine could have turned out so wrong, but honestly I don't really care." Clary said.

Madeleine shrugged in reply, in a way that made Clary think that Madeleine was of the same belief, but her eyes clouded. Clary peered into the woman's face, trying to pick apart the reason for Madeleine's wet eyes. The woman stared back at her calmly, but Clary didn't feel an ounce of shame. So Clary nodded her head and Madeleine continued.

"Either way, when we all graduated Valentine became a member of the Clave easily, rising into the ranks around the same time that he married your mother and Lucien and Valentine were _parabatai. _I was the only one who had my doubts about Valentine and when Jocelyn told me of her intentions to be his wife, I told her of my doubts. She rebuffed me and it had been quite some time when we next spoke."

Clary had a feeling that Madeleine had glossed over the details, but she waited for Madeleine to finish speaking. The silver haired woman looked overcome with her story, as though it was spilling out of her.

"Some time later, Lucien had told me that Jocelyn was pregnant. It was the last conversation I had with him. It was only until much later that I heard of what had become of him and his condition. I tried to find Lucien after the Uprising, but I was unable to. So much had happened. It was only after the Uprising that Valentine's depravity was fully realized. It seems that ever since, a pall has been cast over Shadowhunters."

Clary sensed that the story wasn't fully finished yet, but she was curious. "So since Valentine was so…revered before everyone figured out his true colors, how was it that you figured it out before everyone else?" she asked.

"I'm not sure how to explain it. Perhaps it was my upbringing, but I had always been more comfortable in the presence of Downworlders than most Shadowhunters. As I had said before that Valentine's followers were the ones on the fringe of society. I was one such person. Valentine had once tried to 'collect' me for his followers. He spoke to me as if I were an equal…yet whenever he spoke of a downworlder-I couldn't fathom the look in his eyes. Too cold and somehow…gleeful. Or rather that isn't the right word for it, but there was something in him that didn't stop, that always strived at the expense of others. Valentine and I spent some time in each other's company; I had introduced him to Ragnor Fell, a warlock who had been a family friend to both Jocelyn's family and mine. I trust Ragnor's judgment of character and when he told me of his thoughts on Valentine, it only increased my foreboding. I stayed clear of Valentine ever since."

"Ok…but what about Mom?"

"It was after Lucien had been reported as dead, after the birth of Jonathan, and before the Uprising that Jocelyn visited Ragnor Fell. It was only by happenstance that I was there, visiting Ragnor. It was on that day that we spoke to each other again and she confessed to me, what she had told Lucien. That she was afraid of her husband and afraid for her child. I had sensed that there was something that she wasn't telling, but I didn't press the matter. She seemed to know something of great importance. At the time I had no idea that she was referring to the Uprising, but Ragnor was the one who seemed to sense her meaning better than I."

Madeleine took a shaky breath. "Jocelyn was determined to stop her husband and should she and her son would be in danger. Ragnor sat the two of us down and the three of us began to plan. Ragnor had given her a spell, the very one that put her in this state. It was done in the event that Valentine should ever find her, she would be unable to yield to him. The spell itself is found in a book-a warlock tome called The Book of White. It is where the reversal of the spell can be found. Yet, Jocelyn is the only one who knows where the book is."

Clary sucked in a breath. "So-you don't?"

"Afraid not. Both Jocelyn and Ragnor thought it best to keep its location hidden and secret."

"But if mom is in a coma-" Clary cut herself off before continuing. "Even still…is it possible to meet Ragnor?"

"I'm not sure that's wise…"

"Please?!" Clary's voice became ragged. "I have to save my mother!"

Madeleine was silent, wide eyed and pale. At least her hands moved as she bowed her head, her silver hair cascading down her shoulders and concealing her face. Her shoulders were rigid, but Clary couldn't bring herself to reach out to touch the other woman. Clary felt herself dangling on the proverbial cliff as Madeleine held the decision in her hand. For a moment that felt like an eon, and when Madeleine finally looked up, Clary released a breath.

"…Alright. I am planning to leave for Idris tomorrow-"

"Perfect! I'll meet you here tomorrow!"

SPNTMI

The kitchen was noisy with the clattering of pots and pans. The smell of boiling meat and vegetables made the air steam as the countertop was littered with various bits of cookery. Jace watched as Isabelle bustled about the kitchen, fixing something that Jace didn't really want to care to find out. Isabelle's attempts at cooking were the only sounds in the kitchen. Jace looked at Alec, who was sitting opposite him. The air felt heavy and Jace's shirt clung to him and the silence settled into his lungs. Jace didn't meet the blue gaze of Alec, whose sharp eyes pierced Jace's insides. Jace clenched his fists and breathed through his nose. His shoulders flexed as if bracing for a fight, but it took Jace a few moments to look at Alec in the face. The look in Alec's eyes was wide with icy sorrow. It was almost inscrutable-because Jace was supposed to know every expression, every facet of Alec and the fact that there was something in Alec's face that he didn't recognize put him in such a strange state of agitation that he knew that he had to rectify the situation. Immediately.

"Something you need to say?" Jace asked.

Alec flushed, his gaze softening before he glanced down. He took a breath and squaring his shoulders before looking up and back at Jace. The gaze was clear and bright. The agony etched onto Alec's face made the angles of his face stand out against an unusual bone like complexions. Jace knew the look came from Alec feeling the need to speak his mind despite everything. Jace flinched; he was the cause of that anguished look.

"Yes." Alec said. "About the ship…about Valentine."

Isabelle slammed the pot she was holding onto the counter, making a crack onto the countertop. The soup that was inside it splashed out, the hot drops prickling on Isabelle's hands, but she didn't even flinch. Instead she glared at Alec with a mixture astonishment and indignation. Her eyes shimmered suspiciously under the bright lights, almost looking too bright and wet to be believed.

"Alexander Gideon Lightwood, how could you even think that?! Jace is our brother and he would-"

Jace held up a hand, cutting Isabelle off mid-sentence. Isabelle 's mouth open and closed for a few minutes before she swore violently and slammed a few more pans onto the stove, which hissed in protest at the harsh treatment. It made Alec flinch but he continued to stare at Jace.

"That night, you never made clear what your answer to Valentine was. You never said."

"I know."

"I...I know that the Inquisitor had made some mistakes, that the situation didn't call for her behavior. I'm not defending her by any means, but what you did, or didn't do is your choice. I need to know."

Alec's fists were shaking and clenched so tight that he was drawing blood. There was nothing else about him to give away his distress. Isabelle was watching them; she didn't look like she was breathing, her hands still holding a tomato as if she were afraid to drop it. She had become alarmingly pale. Jace could feel something inside of him crackle, as though in a response to a coming storm. There was a violent, wrenching agony inside him that intensified whenever he looked Alec in the eye. He knew that whatever answer he gave would change things forever and he had a sudden mental image of himself dangling on a cliff. Wild hope warred with horrific anxiety. It suddenly hurt to breathe, as those his lungs were caught in an iron vice, taunting him, daring him to spew out his insides alongside his hope. Suddenly he knew he had to tell them the truth. So he did.

When he finished, the silence was deadly. Jace stared at Alec: he could sense more than see Isabelle staring at him; he could only imagine what her expression was. He swallowed as he stared at Alec. Alec was staring at him as if he had never seen him before, his face bleached of all color. He was swallowing convulsively, almost as if he was going to be sick. The blue eyes Jace knew so well were glassy with disbelief and something else he couldn't quite identify. Alec's expression passed slowly over his face, ghosting through his eyes and Jace never knew a fear like this before, making every other adversary seem meaningless. He didn't know how long it would take Alec to speak. For once, he didn't know what his _parabatai_ was going to do. Jace gathered himself, trying to speak.

"Alec."

Alec held up his hand, his mouth trembling. "You…" he said.

"I know." Jace said. "I know-"

"Do you?" Alec cut in, his voice soft and odd.

Jace gritted his teeth and forced his arms to move. He vaguely noted that they were trembling. He reached for Alec. As soon as his fingers brushed Alec's shoulder, the other boy stood up so quickly that his chair clattered onto the ground, the sound echoing with harsh reprimand. Jace retraced his hand as quickly as if it had been burned. He had great difficulty in exhaling, as though he had just finished running a marathon. Alec swiftly turned his head away at the sound.

"Please."

The sound of Alec's voice reverberated in Jace's head the second after Alec spoke. The sound was deadly to his ears, so shaky but roiling as if there were too many emotions to be contained within one word, flaying the vocal cords on the way up through the throat, since the heart had already been shredded. Alec was breathing as heavily as Jace, his eyes wide and nostrils flared. Jace made a sound in his throat that wasn't a word, but just noises that only formed from the language of pain. Jace forced himself to keep looking at Alec, unbearable as it was, he would never forgive himself if he looked away. Alec blinked rapidly, biting his lip so hard it bled and he looked on the verge of saying more, but then the moment past.

Without warning, Isabelle hurled the still hot frying pan at Alec. He barely had time to duck, let alone make a protest. Both boys stared at her in shock. Isabelle's eyes were darker than before, droplets of tears beginning to spill out of her eyes. She gasped out her next words, rage making her voice slur.

"You are _parabatai_; you shouldn't be acting like this. What's wrong with you?!" she shouted. "Alec…" her voice wobbled. " How could you?"

"Me?" Alec wasn't looking at Isabelle. He wasn't referring to her when he next spoke. "How could you?"

Alec seized the chair he upended and lifted it high above his head with such force that Jace's hair fluttered. Alec was trembling all over and Jace braced himself. The kitchen door opened.

"What's happening?"

Isabelle jumped, setting down the rolling pin that Jace hadn't noticed her holding. The youngest Lightwood, Max stood in the doorway, confusion magnetized by his child-like round face and glasses. He looked anxiously about his three siblings, eyes big with distress. The tension in the air kept him from getting too close. Max looked up at Alec and slowly Alec set the chair down.

"Everything's ok Max." Isabelle said.

Max looked doubtful, but nodded all the same. He turned to Jace.

"Mom wants to see you in the study."

"Alright thanks Max."

Alec strode out of the room before anyone could stop him. Jace stared at the stop where Alec had stood. Jace sighed, and then moved out of the kitchen, ruffling Max's hair as he did so. Behind him he could have sworn he heard Isabelle mutter:

"Idiots."

SPNTMI

Clary watched the pews growing smaller from behind the mesh of the elevator's diamond patterned gates. The movement of the ascending elevator was making her giddy. There was a surefire way to wake her mother up and the plans were already swirling in her mind. Images wildly congregated in her vision, crowding for space as she saw her mother whole and happy in her mind's eye. Clary smiled as the next image of her embracing Jocelyn.

The elevator clanged to a halt, causing Clary to feel the vibrations begin in her toes before shuddering to the tops of her skull, creating a buzz of energy about her being. The elevator stopped and she reached for the gates, when they were yanked open and Clary found herself staring straight at Jace. Her breath hitched. His gold eyes were fierce and unguarded, face pale, the circles under his eyes looking like bruises. His lips stood out in color, looking plump and tight, and only opening when he saw Clary.

Jace managed to look even more unguarded at the sight of her. A brief look of something flashed in his eyes, a small twinge of pain before getting smoothed over into a blank slate of politeness. Clary felt a rumbling in her gut, the deep feeling of uneasiness that was threaded with pain. Heat flooded her body as his gold eyes raked over her with the kind of expression that made girls shiver. Clary felt ashamed to be one of those girls, her mind flashing back to the night with the Faerie Queen…and Clary had to quickly shove the beast back in the cage. Even though it made her heart thud, like poison coursing through her veins that she'd want to keep swimming inside her despite how wrong it was.

Clary licked her lips, willing herself to get back on track. Jace gave her a smile and she was encouraged, but it was Jace who spoke first.

"Well speak of the devil."

"That's not very flattering."

"Well you have appeared." Jace eyed her. "Although I imagine it's not to tempt me." His sarcasm was enough to cut glass.

Clary bit back a gasp with her teeth; his voice didn't give away how he really felt. She shuddered as another memory shot through her, of the ship, with Simon and herself beside Jace, and his voice piercing through her thoughts.

_'I was thinking he was my father.' _

Jace's wearied look of anguish was still fresh in her mind. For that, she couldn't blame him for trying to find something worthwhile in his father. The same way he was looking now, but his lips cocked in such a way that she couldn't help but dislike. If she could taste the expression she knew it'd be a bitter taste. Clary shivered at the thought. Jace's expression smoothed into something a bit more friendly.

"I was only joking." He said.

"I know. I know." She said too quickly. "Look I know…well there's something I'd like to say-"

"So do I." Jace interrupted. "I just want to say that." Jace looked too uncomfortable.

"Jace…"

"Just let me get this out." Jace said. "These past couple of weeks I've been…an ass."

Clary shrugged; she really couldn't disagree but she spoke up all the same. "Yeah, but after all that's happened." She didn't elaborate.

"Still. I pushed myself onto you, when it was clear that you didn't want that. I was just too pigheaded to listen."

Jace gestured for Clary to come closer and move into the foyer. Clary's boots echoed over the marble, making her teeth chatter. It felt like this was the first time she stepped foot in the institute, exciting but nerve wracking. Jace moved closer, as if he was going to remove her jacket. He put his hands on her shoulders his hands warming her body in a way she wasn't ready for.

"I'm gonna give you what you want."

Clary's breath hitched.

Jace continued. "I know you want me…as family. So I'll just be your brother from now on." He smiled expectantly at her. "Better late than never right?"

Clary gasped, clenching her fists and plastered a smile on her face. She nodded her head rapidly, willing her vision to clear as she felt her eyes becoming moist. Unable to muster up a vocal response, she smiled wider and was rewarded with a relieved but sad expression. Clary couldn't afford to decipher the expression. Clary fished for something to say, the silence stretching on until the clacking of heels on marble.

Maryse entered the foyer, her heels ringing out against the floor like fanfare and Clary slid her eyes upward to take in the expensive looking navy blue power suit that was only a few shades darker than her eyes. Speaking of her eyes, they widened in surprise at the sight of Clary.

"Clarissa? This is a surprise." Her gaze became a bit cooler, more polite. "Was there something you needed?"

"Yes actually. I came here to see you about something."

Maryse's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"

"Um….yeah. I just learned something. A way to wake my mother up, but the thing is…it's in Idris." Clary looked Maryse in the eye. "I need to go there."

"Are you serious?" Jace asked. "You know that only Shadowhunters are permitted to enter, just bringing in a mundane is highly illegal."

The shock on his face was as severe as Clary had ever seen it; he didn't even bother to disguise, but Maryse continued without even looking at Jace.

Maryse cleared her throat. "Actually, the Clave will want to speak with you about the incident on Valentine's ship. They will want to talk to you. I doubt they will allow a mundane to enter Idris otherwise."

Clary gritted her teeth." I am a shadowhunter."

"The Clave won't see it that way. To them you are just a mundane." Jace said.

"At any rate, Clary will have to agree to see them before even going." Maryse said.

"Then I agree." Clary quickly said.

"Well then." Maryse nodded. "We leave tomorrow. We have a mandatory council to meeting to attend because of the incident with Valentine's ship." Maryse looked at Clary. "You may come with us if you wish. I assume you will inform Lucien of this?"

"Yes of course."

Maryse gave her a curt nod. "Then I see no problem with this. Jace, I'd like to see you in the library when you're ready."

Maryse turned on her heel and walked away without a backward glance. Her daughter had the exact same walk. Clary watched her walk, feeling Jace's eyes on her, tearing her eyes away from her retreating figure. When she turned back to Jace, he was indeed staring at her.

"Are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" she demanded.

"Just let me handle it.' Jace said. "I'll go to Idris for you and get what you need."

"No it has to be me."

"Clary. Stop being so damn stubborn." He snarled.

The desperation on his face was at odds with the hiss of his words, and he stared her down, eyes glassy and lips pulled back, but the image didn't frighten her. Some deep part of her was being called up, willed forward by the voice clamoring in her mind, the voice that sounded like Jocelyn.

"Are you insane?!" Jace snapped. "The only reason the Clave wants to talk to you is because of my fath-Valentine's ship. If they find out how it was destroyed, you will become a lab rat to put it lightly, before turning you into their personalized weapon."

"You make them sound…well you sound like Valentine."

Jace started and looked at her sharply. Clary winced, but pressed on.

"So you're saying you don't trust them?" she asked slowly.

Jace looked like he had trouble swallowing. "Valentine wasn't entirely wrong on that count."

"I thought you said that you were wrong."

"Clary." He said through gritted teeth.

It was enough to give Clary pause and she sighed, her shoulders slumped as she waited for Jace's eyes to soften, and the coolness of his expression was giving him a bit of a more a remote and somehow more angelic. He closed his eyes for a moment; the simple motion seemed to reveal his exhaustion. His lids were smooth and pale and Clary found herself staring at them, at the brief respite that was on his face. Even though respite was not the right word, he looked more stressed than before, if that was possible. It was the way that he looked so young that made Clary greedily drink in his countenance. After all, he wasn't staring at her. She could look all she wanted.

"I told them that the ship came apart on its own, because of all the oil on board and that the fighting certainly didn't help it."

"You lied to the Clave?"

Jace pinched the bridge of his nose. "What of it?"

"I just." Clary paused. "I just thought that, well it doesn't matter I'm going."

"Damn it Clary!"

"It's my mother! My mother is dying! Don't you understand that?! I don't care if I have to go through a thousand Inquisitors to save her." Jace opened his mouth again. "I don't care how dangerous it'll be. I'll have you to help me."

"Clary…"

"You will help me…right?" Clary's voice wavered. "Jace…please."

"…You can't go."

Clary made a sound. She wasn't sure what it was, only that it came from some hidden depths of her gut. It hurt to come out of her mouth, but she swallowed the bile and tried to see straight.

"Is this about me going to Idris or something else?" she choked out.

He didn't answer.

Clary closed her eyes, trying to breathe deep and draw strength from it. She straightened herself out, exhaling through her nose, she opened her eyes. She met Jace's golden eyes, shivering inwardly at the sight.

"I'm doing this. Even if you can't understand why." Clary turned around. "I'll see myself out."

SPNTMI

Simon kicked a stray pebble and it skittered down the docks and fell into the water with a _plunk_. The warehouse district had been quiet for some time now, as the sun got higher in the sky, but the chill of the wind had not abated; he didn't feel it, but he knew Jo and Ellen did, so he gave his coat to the younger woman.

They had been at the docks and the surrounding area for hours, searching for the Harvelle's car. A bumper had washed up on the shore, beneath the rickety dock, smelling strongly of brine. It was Simon who found that piece, and for an hour, he and Jo wandered beneath the docks to look for more salvable pieces. Their shoes had crunched over the debris of people, the beer bottles rolled over sand and gravel. The broken bottles and paper cups stuck up at odd angles, with food wrappers crowding around them. Trash of all shapes and sizes were collected underneath the docks, thrown down here as though it was a pedestrians' personal black hole.

Some of the workers had stopped to stare or call out to the three of them, but others didn't even spare a glance at them. The workers thinned out as the trio combed the area, but no luck, no one had seen anything. There was no sign that there had been a car-or even evidence that there had been a major battle a week prior. Simon supposed the Clave had something to do with that. Now that the work day had ended and the three of them were still there.

"I think it's time to give up the ghost." Simon said.

Jo turned to look at him. "Yeah I know."

"So other than the fact that this was your only ride, is there any other reason for trying to find your car?"

"Truck" Jo corrected. "Well it is our only ride, but we could always get another I guess."

The two walked down a ways away from under the docks to walk back to the concrete. The way back was easy to get to, despite having no steps. Simon moved to the stone wall, hauling himself over it and reaching his hand out to Jo, who pulled herself up from the wall. The two then walked the length of the pier, moving towards Ellen, who waved them over.

"Over here." Ellen called.

Ellen had her arms full with bottles of coke and she handed them out as they reached her and the three sat down on a loading dock for the trucks that were driven there daily, bringing supplies for the factories. Their legs dangled over the edge, feet just barely skimming the dying weeds and stray, withered leaves. Ellen took a swig of her coke just as Jo was uncapping hers. Simon held his; the cool feel of the bottle was making him smile in a way that only Clary had been able to this past week. Simon was pretty sure they knew that he was unable to drink his coke, but Ellen bought him one anyway, smiled at him when she saw him shift it between the palms of his hands, and he knock the tip of his sneakers next to Jo's, just like he used to with Clary when they were kids. Simon felt as if his heart would start to beat again.

"Well I think we're just gonna have to give up on this one." Ellen said.

"We were thinkin' the same thing." Jo replied. "We'll just have to find another one."

"Another one?" Simon asked.

The two women glanced at each other before speaking.

"Being a hunter isn't the most reputable job out there." Jo offered.

Simon nodded and for some reason he thought of Clary. He sighed, looking at the coke swirling in its plastic container. When he looked up again, both of them were staring at him.

"What?"

"Thinking about Clary?" Jo asked.

Simon gave a wistful laugh. "That obvious?"

"Nothing to be ashamed of." Ellen said.

"Besides you love her right?" Jo asked.

Simon looked down at his drink again, he knew he'd never be able to drink it again, not like Clary could-or any of his friends really, but he knew that someday he would still be standing when everyone else wouldn't. He shuddered, pushing the thought deep below the surface. His feelings were clear, Simon knew that much and that Clary's were clear to him, but maybe not to herself. Simon didn't even want to think on what Jace's feeling were, even though he knew Jace did love Clary. He didn't like, but he could see it and Jace wouldn't stop…or that Clary wouldn't either and Simon was sure he wouldn't stop either. He smiled to himself; all he knew is that somewhere, in the back of his mind, that that would never change…but everything else would. Simon supposed that would be just fine. He looked back up at Ellen and Jo, who looked back at him, he smiled to them in response but it was the sky that he answered as he brought his gaze upwards.

"Yeah I do."

SPNTMI

The light from the table lamp threw the wallpaper of the motel into a bright slightly garish tone. Sam only spared a glance at it as he stared at his laptop's screen. Dean was laying on one the beds, flipping through channels. With just the two of them, if was oddly silent. The whole week had been quiet as well. Sam closed the lid on his computer and leaned back into his chair. He watched Dean instead. His brother was lying on his stomach, facing closer to the TV than he probably should, his hand loosely clutching the remote. Dean's green eyes were glassy with boredom, and Sam couldn't blame him, a sigh escaping his lips. Dean heard and tore his gaze away from the TV and rose in eyebrow at Sam.

"Dude there is nothing on."

"Hmmm? Oh, no, that's not it."

Dean held his gaze with Sam, knowing this was a conversation that needed to be had. Dean let go of the remote.

"Not much else to do." Dean grunted. "Unless you've got anything better to do."

Maybe it was the edge in Dean's voice that made Sam fixed his brother with a fierce glare. Dean gave Sam a look of bored indolence in response.

"Yeah I do."

"Then let's hear it." Dean sat up.

"We can talk to the shadowhunters-"

Dean snorted.

"Really, I know they're not our biggest fans but when you get right down to it-"

"Dude, you were there, when the werewolf told us what's-er'-face threatened to kill us if we tried to 'interfere' with shadowhunter business."

"Look, I know it's a longshot, but we gotta work with them on this."

Dean rubbed a hand over his face. "I know, but how? They made it pretty damn clear they want us to hit the bricks."

Sam nodded and continued. "Just stick around I guess. Wait to see if Luke gets any leads."

"What makes you think he'd be able to tell us?" Dean groused. "I tell ya, I'd rather hunt."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah well, that'd go over well with the shadowhunters. We'd probably need a permit or something."

Dean smiled briefly. "Probably. Still, I hate all this sitting around."

"Well there's not much else to do." Sam said. "Bobby's got nothing; Cas is back on his god hunt-"

"And probably got nothing too." Dean interrupted.

"Luke has got nothing." Sam continued. "No one has got any leads anywhere."

"What makes you think he'd tell us anyway?" Dean asked. At Sam's look of consternation he elaborated. "Seriously, what reason would he, would any of them have for trusting us, because it obviously isn't a ship exploding or anything that important."

"I'm thinking he's just as much an outsider as we are. He'll keep us in the loop. We should stay in the city."

"I'm in agreement with you there. What we need is more back up."

As this, Dean began to sort through their weapons. He picked up a gun at random and began to fieldstrip it. The familiarity of it was welcome and there among the pile was the equally familiar colt. Sam strode over and picked it up and turned it over in his hands which Dean watched out of the corner of his eye, and his grip tightened on the muzzle of the sawed off.

"Question is will they give it to us?" Sam asked.

Dean recalled the shadowhunters skepticism at the colt and frowned. Sam's grip tightened on the colt, although not in a distressing way, but Sam was frowning, lost in thought and Dean didn't like the direction Sam's eyes seemed to be going. It made him think too much of when Zachariah showed him the future, of the white suited 'Sam' pressing an immaculate shoe on his future self's neck. He couldn't dispel the image of Lucifer's smile, the way his fingers curled around the rose in his palm. His brother's lip brushing against the red petals as he quietly spoke to Dean. He could feel his pulse beat as a monster wore his brother's face and in his mind's eye he aim the colt into the center of the devil's forehead.

"Dean?"

Dean started. Sam was looking at him with a questioning look, and Dean wanted to snap back at him, but reined it in.

"Yeah?"

"You ok?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, yeah just spaced out." Dean cleared his throat. "You know, how about you just give me the colt?"

Sam looked at him in askance and Dean shifted a bit, trying to shrug. Sam's look of confusion turned into reading, the look Dean knew meant he was getting analyzed and he tried not to scowl; he knew he was giving something away, he just didn't know what because he honestly didn't know what his expression looked like, but Sam seemed to realize what it was because his own expression went quickly from suspicion to something akin to accusation.

"You don't trust me with it?" he asked.

"What? What make you say that? Sure I do."

Dean knew the instant he said, that that he did not. However justified that was, it still didn't make him feel better when he saw Sam's face fall and then harden into weariness. Dean resisted the urge to put up his hands however much it sucked, he was in the right. They weren't back to point where Sam could handle something like this; he just wasn't sure how long Sam's compliance with that would last.

"Seriously?" Sam asked. "I know that I royally screwed up, but I can do at least this much."

Dean set his jaw and held out his hand. "No."

"Dean."

"Sammy no. Just give me the gun."

"Look this is my mistake and I'll never forgive myself if I don't fix it."

"Not by yourself. We're gonna-"

Sam cut him off. "We?" He pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing. "So how long I'm I gonna be on the bench? If this is your idea of teamwork, then this isn't gonna work."

"What?" Dean shivered. "What are you saying?" he continued. "You we the one who wanted back in."

"I still do, but you agreed to it."

Dean still held his hand out for the gun. Sam clenched it even tighter in his fist.

"Exactly." Dean said. "So just give me the gun Sammy." He swallowed. "We both know that you can't handle this."

As soon as he said it, he regretted it and the way Sam stared back at him, made his gut clench as though it was trying to digest knives. Dean opened his mouth and Sam turned his head away, squaring his shoulders. The soreness in Dean's arm told him he was still holding it out. It looked so absurd just stuck out with nothing for it to hold onto. He slowly retracted it, wiping his mouth. This kind of reminded him of all the times he and Sam would argue over the remote of whatever crappy TV there happened to be, in whatever crappy motel they had been staying at. This was stupid.

"I didn't mean…"

Sam turned back to Dean. "Yes you did."

Dean clenched his fist, hating the small part that agreed. Trust was going to be in short supply these days, and Sam hear that unspoken reply. Dean finally dragged his eyes back to Sam's. The weariness, the almost acceptance at Dean's words was startling and his guilt redoubled, as did his anger when he saw the stubbornness emerge in his brother's eyes.

"Just remember that you were the one who said we'd keep each other human."

Dean flinched, but didn't back down. "What do you want from me?" he asked.

"A little trust would be nice."

"I did and look where that got us"Dean snapped.

"I meant that I need to trust you." Sam snapped back.

"What?"

Sam sighed. "I mean that I need to trust that whenever I screw up-and I know I will-that you won't…just hold it over me the rest of my life, because believe me I'm doing that just fine on my own."

Colt in hand, Sam then strode out the door, its slam echoing another and Dean knew that was his least favorite sound.

SPNTMI

Clary stuffed her favorite red shirt into her suitcase. Books were strewn about the couch; she didn't think she'd get around to reading any of them in Idris, she was too excited. Her smile grew bigger at the thought. Even if Jace didn't want her to come…

"Do you really need that many clothes?"

Clary turned to face Simon. "Hm?"

Simon smiled. "I said I'm not sure you need that many clothes. Aren't you only going for a couple of days?"

"Well a girl can never have too many clothes." She teased.

Simon rolled his eyes good naturedly. "Riiiight."

"Seriously." Clary said. "I don't really know what I should bring. What if they don't let me wear pants?"

"C'ome on, they can't be that old fashioned." Simon replied.

"You'd be surprised."

Simon and Clary turned to see Luke standing in the doorway holding a large package in his arms. He set it down before tossing his keys onto the table and shrugging off his coat. Luke smiled as he shut the door and strode over to Simon and Clary.

"Hey." Clary smiled as Luke bent down to kiss the top of her head.

"I got you something."

"I could tell." Clary grinned. "Can I open it now?"

"Of course."

Luke handed the huge package over to her. The box was cool from the outdoors, its wrapping glossy and thick, but Clary had a couple guesses as to what it might be. The huge bow meant that it had been giftwrapped and she tugged on the huge green ribbon, it slowly unraveled and Clary rubbed the satin-y fabric between her fingers as more and more of it began to fall in her lap.

"C'ome on Fray rip it!" Simon cheered.

Clary laughed. "Shut up."

"Go on, give it a tear." Luke prodded.

Clary rolled her eyes. "Boys."

She began to heartily tear into the wrapping paper, exaggerating the strength of the tearing as she flung scraps of the glossy paper over her shoulder as Simon cheered her on. When the final shred of paper fluttered around her, the box revealed itself to be one from a store that she had seen a couple of times, but the logo wasn't entirely familiar to her. The thick, loopy letters of the store's name seemed familiar, but Clary didn't remember ever shopping there. All the same, she felt giddy as she lifted the lid.

"Look Simon, fancy oooooooh-"

Her teasing croon gave way to an actual gasp. In the box was a beautiful bottle green velvet cloak.

"Oh Luke." She gasped.

Clary wiped her hands on her jeans before lifting the cloak out of the box, as she held it up she heard Simon whistle. Clary wasn't paying attention too much; her eyes were fixated on her present, she loved the way the shade of green was so deep and caught the light, giving it a subtle shimmer. It had a hood and a mantle, which had a simple clasp that took the shape of a leaf. Clary prodded it, and after a few moments of fiddling, realized that it also doubled as a broach. The leaf curved from stem to tip, the edges trimmed with gold and ended in delicate points. Clary peeked inside the hood, feeling the inside of the material. It was smooth, but she knew it could get warmed up quickly. It wasn't fur lined; she wasn't sure what material it was, just that it was meant to be comfortable and practical. She reluctantly tore her eyes away from it to Luke.

"I love it." She breathed. "Thank you."

Luke smiled warmly back. "I'm glad you like it."

"Can I put it on?" she asked.

"Of course."

Clary wrapped it around, maneuvering the clasp so that the mantle was set squarely on her shoulders. Clary looked down at herself. The cloak went all the way down to her ankles and Clary twirled, twisting around to get a better look. Laughing, Clary whirled around, seeing green trail around her out of the corner of her eye. Dizzy, she wound herself down to see look staring at her with a peculiar smile that was wistful and sad.

"Your mother had a cloak just like that once."

"Oh."

Clary felt the sadness heavily, but it was it matched the expression on Luke's face. She held the hood in her hands, nuzzling into it.

"Really?"

"Yes. She was quite fond of it."

Clary felt the urge to ask whatever happened to it, but wanted see Luke with a happier smile, so she turned to Simon. He smiled back to her. His smile was wistful as well, but somehow less sad, just an old fondness. He nodded.

"It matches your eyes."

Clary felt herself flush and she could see he had as well, but he held her gaze. For some reason that fact made her swell with pride. Simon and Luke were still looking at her, and Clary could feel her affection for them grow. Neither of them was particularly happy that she was going to Idris, but they didn't say one word to her about it. Luke had given her a gift for her trip and Simon was helping her pack. Clary grinned so hard her jaw hurt.

"So you're saying I'll fit in with this?"

"Yes."

"They're really that formal?" Simon asked.

Luke answered. "Yes. There are many rules and regulations for entering Idris just as many customs concerning them. Since you'll be with the Lightwoods', you won't have to worry too much. Maryse will keep an eye on you."

"Delightful." Clary rolled her eyes.

Clary sat back down and put her cloak back into its box as Simon began to speak.

"So what I didn't get is why they need to go to Idris for again."

"Because of the ship getting destroyed, the Clave wants to hear it from them."

"Ok, right because the Inquisitor can't tell the Clave herself. I get that, but why do they want to speak with you?"

"Because I was there too."

Clary eyes Simon carefully. He took the hint and didn't press. He knew that she had made the rune that caused the ship to come apart. That was between herself, Simon and Jace. If Jace wanted to keep that a secret, then maybe it would be best to do the same…

"Not just the Lightwoods' have been called to Idris." Luke said. "All the shadowhunters have."

Simon's eyes widened. "All of them? I dunno how many of them are, but's it gotta be a lot right?" he asked.

Luke nodded. "Shadowhunters from all over the world are being summoned for this."

"Just for a ship exploding?"

"No for Valentine." Luke replied. "His ship exploding has propelled the other shadowhunters into action, or well deciding what their next course of action would be."

"How long do you think that will take?" Clary asked.

"Who knows." Luke shrugged.

"So you don't know how long you'll be staying?" Simon asked Clary.

"Exactly." Clary nodded.

The conversation dwindled to more mundane topics and Luke eventually announced that he was going to make some coffee and offered Simon the couch for the night. As Luke wandered into the kitchen, Simon grabbed a skirt from Clary's haphazard pile of clothes and tossed it into her suitcase. Clary reached for the top that matched said skirt and Simon grabbed it for her and leaned forward and as she took it he whispered to her.

"So, you're not gonna tell Luke why you really wanna go to Idris?"

Clary shook her head. "He'd just worry."

"Ok, I'm just not sure that it's a good idea not to tell him, besides are you sure you can trust this Madeleine person?"

"Yes."

Simon appeared to be thinking. He nodded slowly. "Ok then."

He tossed her another blouse. She caught it and folded it.

"So you staying the night?"

"Yeah I wanna see you off."

"Kay."

SPNTMI

Jace stood over his bed, his bag halfway packed, but he didn't particularly care. He felt dulled, unable to move. Though honestly, there wasn't much to pack. He didn't quite realize how bare his room really was. Normally if that thought ever entered his mind, he quickly dismissed it as unimportant and it wasn't until he met Clary that he how others probably saw it. Not that he would have cared what others thought of it, but Clary was different. She was always…

A sharp rapping startled Jace out of his thoughts and there was another rapid fire knocking.

"Jace? May I come in?"

It was Maryse.

"Sure." He grunted.

She opened the door and Jace resumed packing. He spared her a glance. She looked far more tired than he remembered, but then again, Robert had been injured in the battle on the ship; another thing that was his fault. He scowled at his thoughts and Maryse sucked in a breath. He turned to look at her. She was watching his hands stuff his belongings into his bag with wide eyes. She opened her mouth, but whatever she was going to say she seemed to think better of, but began to speak anyway.

"Isabelle told me what happened."

Jace snorted. "Figures."

"I'm glad she did. I understand Alec's concern."

"Again, figures."

Maryse flinched. "Trust goes both ways Jace."

"Oh? Well I seemed to have forgotten that tiny fact." Jace continued. "I suppose I could have saved a lot of time if I just read a motivational poster, perhaps I should-"

"Jace stop being ridiculous." Maryse snapped.

Normally that tone would have shut Jace up, but once he began to speak it was hard to stop.

"What's ridiculous is that you don't blame me for Robert's injuries. On top of that, the Clave will be cracking down on you, and you'll surely be punished for the bad judgment of ever having taken me in, and oh that's right-not to mention that I said yes to Valentine-" Jace barked out. "So if you don't mind I think I'll just leave. The Clave will find me guilty, and I can always be a hunter, better than having my marks stripped."

Jace hefted his bag over his shoulder and turned to the door, only to have Maryse block his way. Her eyes burned bright and their resemblance to Alec's brought a sharp clarity to him. Without him realizing it, Maryse lifted her hand and slapped him full across the face. Jace stumbled back; he was barely able to keep a hold of his bag. He lifted a hand to his cheek, the sting preventing him from pressing it too hard. He stared up at Maryse in shock; she had never hit him before, but that wasn't what made him stare at her in astonishment.

Her eyes were wet with tears.

"Don't you dare say that." She hissed. "I do not blame you one bit for Robert-or Alec. Did you honestly think that I would choose the Clave over my son? I've already learned the hard way that family comes first, and if you dare walk out that door, I will just drag you back inside."

Jace stared back at her. "Don't you understand-I chose Valentine! Even if it was for a moment, I still chose him."

Maryse shut her eyes. When she opened them, her eyes were laden with sorrow. "Did you forget that I had chosen him as well? That I alongside so many others had once been in his circle that had caused so much destruction. You are not the first person he has seduced, nor will you be the last. We will simply have to carry on." She shrugged. "If you want to blame someone for running to him, blame me. I did nothing to stop the Inquisitor; I should have let you know that I did not share her opinion of you."

Jace swallowed hard. "Yeah that would have been nice."

Maryse inhaled sharply and replied. "Do you remember meeting us? Fresh from Idris and all you had was a single bag and your toy solider. That Alec and Isabelle were with me that day and when you and Alec decided to become _parabatai_? I knew, _I knew_ from the moment that I saw you that I had another son and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Jace knew he wouldn't forget her expression as long as he lived. Her eyes were blazing, never mind the tears, it just made her fiercer. She looked exhausted, as if she were running on pure adrenaline alone. Her hair was hastily pulled back, a few strands out of their confines and stuck to her skin. Her fluttering breath at odds with her fighting stance, but she blazed like a torch no matter how exhausted or vulnerable she looked. This was a rare side of her and Jace actually wished he got to see more of it for some reason and he wanted to be around when she showed this part of herself again. She didn't show this to just anyone.

Jace exhaled shakily, the weight being lifted from him nearly made him tumble to the ground, but that could have just been from his bag as he let it drop to the floor. Maryse gave him a smile tight with too many emotions to name. Jace carefully sat down on his bed. The two were silent; Jace wasn't sure for how long, but when he finally spoke he said:

"You're right, trust is a two way street. With that in mind, could you do me a favor?"

SPNTMI

The alarm on Clary's phone blared in her ears, jolting her out of dreams of things with wings and she sat up rubbing her eyes. She felt another body next to her, the soft snores making her blink in sleepy envy. She nudged Simon awake. He stretched like a cat, limbs lightly bumping into her. Clary staggered to the kitchen to see Luke already there, pouring her a cup of coffee.

It didn't take long for the three to get ready. Clary was brimming over with energy, unable to sit still the whole ride over. Luke parked across from the institute, and Clary hurried out, Simon and Luke in tow. She recalled Maryse's instructions to go to the side where the garden was and meet Maryse and the rest of the lightwoods and Magnus would could create a portal and send them to Idris. She raced past the stone benches overgrown with vines, her duffle bag bumping into her thigh.

The garden was empty. A breeze swept the dead leaves, scattering them at her feet. Clary checked her watch. Right on time and her anxiety increased; Maryse had insisted she be there on time. Clary stared blindly at the scene, her cell phone clutched in her hand, her knuckles pale in their tight grip. It didn't stop her from looking up when she heard Luke and Simon approach. They stood on opposite sides, but she heard their voices from a great distance.

"I checked inside, but there wasn't anyone there." Luke said.

"Clary-" Simon said.

Clary sat down on the stone bench, yesterday repeating itself in her mind, until one thing stood out: Jace did not want her to go with him the look in his face when she asked him about the ship. They dark, shifted look that she now knew meant that he was lying. What else was Jace lying about? Clary cleared her throat and looked up at the two men.

"It's ok, it fine. I just want…." Clary rubbed her eyes. "Actually, Luke could you take me to the hospital. I wanna visit my mom."

Luke looked taken aback. "…Alright then."

She didn't let either of them touch her as they made their way back to the truck, every step on the concrete a slap of disappointment. Clary was silent the whole ride there, clutching her duffle bag and staring out the window. Luke parked and Clary jumped out. Luke and Simon began to get out as well until Clary stopped and turned to face them.

"Guys…please. I've got to do this by myself. I just need to be alone right now."

Clary didn't bother to look back as she strode inside the hospital and up to her mother's room, where she knew exactly who would be waiting for her. She was right. Madeleine was in Jocelyn's room; she had looked up at exactly the moment that Clary entered the room. They locked eyes and Madeleine slowly sat up. Clary began to speak.

"Take me to Idris."

SPNTMI

**TBC….**


	7. The confidant beast

**Disclaimer: Don't own either series.**

**Warnings: Violence, language, hints of pre-slash and incest. Basically what's in a typical episode. **

**AN: A new arc has begun and it's got more action and interaction than the previous one. **

**Word count: 24,490**

Chapter 7: The confidant beast:

"Excuse me?" Madeleine asked.

"Please." Clary replied. "I told you, I have to go to Idris."

"I take it, that your previous plans fell through?" Madeleine continued. "The Clave called a meeting that is mandatory for all shadowhunters and I know Maryse Lightwood has already left, which I confess is a surprise to me because I made plans to leave with her much earlier today. I'm sorry she left without you."

Clary started up at Madeleine in surprise before gritting her teeth and responding. The older woman was unfazed by these and instead looked at Clary with a pitying expression. She gave Clary a small shrug.

"I know that." Clary gritted out. "You made me a promise. Will you keep it?" she asked.

"What you are asking me is illegal." Madeleine held up her hand. "Not to mention too difficult for me to perform. Magnus has already closed the portal, as surely as the other warlock on the other side in Idris."

"Then why did you agree to help me? I know you are on my mother's side, if you weren't her friend I wouldn't trust you. I know you want to help her as much as I do, and I won't stop until she wakes up."

Madeleine stared hard at Clary, squaring her shoulders and squeezing Clary's arms. Her grip was firm and steady. It took her a moment before she closed her eyes and nodded.

"I assume you have some form of a plan, especially if the portal itself has already been closed."

Clary grinned and then remembered. "Wait." Clary said. "So the portal has to be open on two sides for it to work?"

"Yes."

Clary nodded to herself. "Ok then, that shouldn't be a problem."

Madeleine tilted her head in askance. "How so?"

Clary held out her stele. "I just need you to do two things. Can you contact the person on the other side to open a portal…or?"

Madeleine shook her head. "I'm afraid not. I know where he lives, so I suppose you just need to know the location?"

"I think so…could you describe how it looks?"

Madeleine smiled and began to describe the surroundings. Clary closed her eyes, letting her imagination weave into the landscape Madeleine was painting for her. Clary felt her arm raise, her stele trembling with power and she felt her stele puncture the air, making the shape of a door, a single word being chanted in her mind.

_'Open.' _

She opened her eyes and gasped. A shimmering doorway was floating inches from the hospital's linoleum floor. Its edges shimmered in gold, the only true color of the door, and it blurred like a heat wave. This was the only thing that truly gave it shape that marked it out for being a door because it wouldn't look like a door without it. It reminded Clary of when she colored in between the lines of her coloring books, except that this time she was most defiantly coloring outside of the lines. Inside of the doorway, was a swirl of wind and distorted colors, the odd shape flying by. Clary swallowed, glancing at the hospital door that was so bright that it hurt her eyes. She stared at it, suddenly seeing the room as a whole. She was in a hospital, with nurses and patients, and here there was a portal to another country in the room. Clary turned to Madeleine; the portal was just big enough for two.

"Ready?"

Madeleine nodded, her eyes hardened with resolve. She held out her hand and Clary took it, the older woman's grip was firm and her calluses hard. She had shadowhunter hands. Clary took a breath and stepped into the portal.

SPNTMI

It felt like a thousand hands had grabbed her, pulling her forward and sucking the air out of her lungs as though it stole the very oxygen from her body. Clary thought she heard Madeline gasp beside her, a sound that was torn away from her and blown behind them. Clary gritted her teeth and willed herself to breathe. She had to keep her eyes wide despite the nausea that was overwhelming her as colors and shapes blended together, rushing past her like the landscape seen from a speeding car. Clary's heart was tugging her forward, almost downward as the two were swirled about. Madeleine crashed into her, making a small hiss a pain. Madeleine's silvery hair whipped around Clary's face and tangling around Clary's neck and she shivered as she felt the older woman's lips brush her jaw; she was shouting, but Clary could barely make out the words. Clary shouted back, just sounds as she tried to keep her limbs from waving wildly from the force of the portal. She could barely breathe as the force exerted on her slammed into them and her eyes streamed with tears as she tried not to panic. Clary had no idea where they would end up despite the mental picture she had when drawing the portal; hopefully it could sense that kind of thing, but it seemed more in control than herself. Clary tightened her grip on Madeleine, afraid that if she moved even an inch, she would be ripped away from Madeleine and they would be flung in opposite directions.

Suddenly, the tunnel of form and light narrowed into a tube and she felt a pull downwards from her navel that yanked her forward with such force that her mouth open and she felt like her organs might spill out of her at any moment. The world suddenly spun together and she could no longer keep her eyes open and then just as suddenly then a feeling of suspension for a split second, jolting as though she had been yanked to a sudden stop by a taunt wire and hung in the air before plummeting downwards; Clary squinted and saw the earth rushing to meet her. She took a breath and screamed.

SPNTMI

Jace shifted in his seat, his tea cold and untouched. The Penhallow house was not quite bustling, but Jace knew his hosts were trying to keep good spirits; their guests had a family member who was going to be on trial for siding with Valentine, or with something to that effect. No one was really sure what happened, even though many shadowhunters were on the boat that day. Jace knew just how lucky they were that the Penhallow's, old family friends that had been their allies since before anyone could remember. Jace leaned back into the leather sofa and watched Isabelle and Aline Penhallow chat about fashion. Aline, unlike themselves had been raised in Idris, never having set foot out of the country. Despite this, she was wearing more mundane clothes and had a much more casual way of speaking. Aline and Isabelle were polar opposites, always had been, but the two got along so well that whenever they got to the chance to speak to one another, their conversations could go on for hours.

That didn't leave much room for Jace, but he didn't feel like talking much anyway. Jace studiously ignored Aline's cousin Sebastian Verlac, who seemed keen to start up a conversation with him but spoke little and laughed at Isabelle's jokes. Not for the first time that day, Jace wished that Alec was with him, despite the fact that his _parabatai _did not feel the same way.

SPNTMI

Clary gasped. Idris was beautiful, absolutely gorgeous. She wished she had brought her sketchbook with her, but the only thing she had with her from her luggage was the green cloak that Luke had given her. When the portal had dumped her down on the ground and Madeleine had to pull her up. The two didn't speak as Clary stared. She could recall the pictures that Simon showed her of the trip him and his family went to Europe. The landscape had made her heart beat fast, but this was better than the pictures of Italian countryside. Clary looked back at Madeleine and grinned; she had done it, she was in Idris!

"I know this area, Ragnor lives close by." Madeleine said.

"Will he be home?" Clary asked.

"Hopefully. He rarely goes into Alicante, but he likes to stay busy."

Clary frowned. "Alicante is the capitol right?"

"Yes. It's really the only city that we have. It's guarded by the demon towers that surround the city. Which is why infiltrating the city is impossible."

"Demon towers?"

"Yes, they're made from a substance that is similar to our _stele's_. Even so, security around Alicante is tight and the wards surrounding them are guarded."

"You make it sound like I'll sneak in." At a look from Madeleine she continued. "Well, I'll try not to."

Madeleine smiled and they continued onwards. Clary was glad she was wearing flats; the ground was hard, but she kept staring at the scenery, nearly tripping a few times because she couldn't take her eyes off it. The sky was a shade of blue she had never seen before, in fact the entire sky seemed to be filled with a range of colors that Clary had never encountered and her heart thudded; she wished she had her sketchbook and come pencils, but she had the feeling she wouldn't be able to get it down properly. Looking at the landscape she could see why a shadowhunter would get homesick for Idris. It was beautiful. Clary could remember seeing the pictures Simon showed her of when his mother took their family to Italy, and Clary was envious when she flipped through the hi-def pictures of Italian countryside. This was so much better. The hills lush with gold and green, the purple mountains in the background, and the soft looking grass amid the firm ground. Her heart was stopping as she stumbled over the ground, trying to take in everything and not miss a moment. Her breath caught as the clouds partially obscured the sun, resulting in a shaft of sunlight shooting down to the ground. It was as though angels had pushed through the clouds to bring the affectionate light to touch the countryside, and the sun illuminated Madeleine's silver hair, making it look as though it was on fire.

Clary gasped in delight when it became obvious that they had reached their destination. There it was, a modest wooden cabin surrounded in rolling hills and emerald fields. The cabin itself looked to be made of sturdy wood, possibly oak or redwood. Either way, it was a deep color that had a natural gleam. It had a thick foundation that was raised by a few inches off the ground, with beams keeping it up. There was a small set of stairs of on the left leading to a porch at least five feet in length and nearly three feet in width, enough for a small bench that had a faded blue blanket draped over it and a small round winker table. A glass rested on the table, with what looked like a bottle of wine and a stack of cards (Clary had an inkling they were tarot). Overhead of the bench was a small window with a white frame around the screen. The door was on the opposite side, the left hand side. The door was ajar but the screen door behind it was closed. She could see a tall figure behind it and Madeleine did as well, quickening her pace so that Clary had to stride to catch up.

The roof was sturdy, as the cabin had at least two floors with two windows; it ran length-wise the same as the porch below it, so it looked as the one could climb out the windows and lounge on the roof. It was shingled lightly as it was expertly held tighter; the only thing that was made of stoned was the chimney, which was smoking slightly. The smoke dissipating in the midday air, and the front yard had no decorations save the fertile ground. Full bloomed flowers hugged the foundation, their colors soft, almost pastel against the swollen hills.

Clary fanned her face with her hand. She hoped its owner was home. It looked a well lived place and she quickly felt at ease. It gave an odd sense of nostalgia; not as if she had actually been there, but that could have and would have done so if given the chance to. Suddenly the sight of what should have been hers was too painful to look at. Instead she focused on the figure that was beginning to open the door and her body trembled when she sensed Madeleine stiffen beside her. The door to the cabin opened and the figure emerged. The figure was distinctly male. A square jaw robustly sculpted with a firm hand. He had a steady frame incasing full pilgrim lips and an aquiline nose, but his eyes were the most impressive feature. The color green of the sharpest tone, managing to be both stern and had a calm that belied a type of fierce, wise kind of pride that she had never seen before. It had to be Ragnor. He was tall, a smooth musculature that showed a power that spoke of maleness, but far more grace. Clary longed to sketch him; she wanted to capture the power that radiated off of him like a wave. However the overwhelming sense of strength wasn't pronounced because of a feeling of aggressiveness, but rather with the calm expression that gave the impression that he was someone whose voice was expected to be heard. Clary was never more surprised at what was obviously not glamour; Clary realized that he probably disliked doing that he wouldn't feel the need to do so in Idris. Clary didn't know if that was allowed, but why shouldn't it be?

Clary knew that warlocks all had something to them that gave away what they really were, but he stood out. His skin was green. A hue somewhere between evergreen and leaf, he had white hair that was as long and straight as a girl's and it was slicked back with a brusque efficiency. It reached just to his waist and was held in place by two large ram's horns on the each side of his head and just below his pointed ears.

Those eyes never left their sharpness as they looked at her, focusing their attention on her with the kind of astuteness that made Clary shiver, as if she was exposed to a harsh wind. However, they also regarded her with a mild disdain, but beneath it was something more enigmatic. Maybe he knew something that she didn't and his eyes showed a brief sympathy that had a shine of determination. Clary was filled with foreboding that didn't stop her from trembling. This only took a few minutes, because as soon as he swept his gaze off her, she gasped with relief. When his eyes met Madeleine's, they intensified almost impossibly.

Clary shuddered at the look; it was familiar, but the surprising feeling that was accompanied it was. She felt a heady rush of desire that made her ache in places that she didn't think was possible with anyone other than Jace. Clary blinked the haziness away from her. She had enough rudimentary skill at recognizing the sensation for what it was. Madeleine gasped loudly, almost obscenely. It snapped Clary back to her surroundings and she turned to look at the older woman. She had tears in her eyes, a strange smile tugging her lips-he, Ragnor let the door slam behind him as he strode forward with force gravity could not deny. In three strides, he went to Madeleine and in one fluid motion embraced her. To Clary it was as if time stopped just for them; they didn't pull away and when they finally did, Ragnor's tapered fingers curled inches from her hair; Madeleine shivered, her own fingers brushing the tips of his horns, as if she couldn't believe that she was actually touching them. Clary ached with tension just watching them, and felt unable to pull away as Madeleine kissed him.

Clary's vision zoomed in, fascinated as their lips pressed together, opening like blooming petals, suffused with color and smoothly in rhythm, spreading their tongues over and into each other's mouths. She caught a quick glimmer of moisture before quickly closing up, their lips moving furiously, but the real dance taking place behind the flesh; like watching a silhouette of two people making love. It ended too soon and both Ragnor and Madeleine stared at her. She realized in that whole time, she didn't avert her eyes once.

"Uh…Sorry." Clary stammered. _'So that's why she trusted Downworlders…'_

"No, I should apologize. I got carried away."

Madeleine blushed, suddenly looking like a young girl; her small hands released their firm grip from Ragnor's horns. She stood back, straightened up and spread out her hands, moving them as she made the introductions.

"Clarissa, this is Ragnor Fell."

Ragnor nodded and began to speak. "Forgive my rudeness, but I know who you are, Clarissa Morgenstern daughter of Valentine and sister of-"

"Clary will do just fine."

Her voice sounded flat even to hers as Ragnor regarded her with unsurprised eyes and Clary felt briefly chastised before pushing it down. He nodded in response

"Come inside we have much to talk about."

SPNTMI

The inside of the cabin was lit by natural sunlight; the wooden beams of the ceiling lighting up a dark golden brown but what Clary took notice of the most was lower. The furniture was covered in books, ancient and thick, written in languages' she didn't understand. The number of candles was astonishing and quite a few were black, their wax cascading down their wick in dried clumps. Large copper bowls were stacked against each other on the counter, kitchen next to them and kept clean. There was a single table in this first room, the floor swept and it had a slight sheen to it that made Clary long to take off her shoes.

The room next over, was the living room. Clary could see the couch lined up next to a little nightstand cluttered with books piled next to a lamp. A coffee table across from both the couch and the fireplace which was smoldering on blackened logs. There was a picture hanging over the fireplace, the frame a dark red with no ornamental features save its somber aura. The picture itself was a landscape of dark mountains, lightening striking in the distance. It gave Clary a shiver; the longer she stared at it, the more she got sucked in. The mountain was familiar, at least in some place in her mind. Ragnor cleared his throat, making Clary turn back with a sheepish smile.

"Ah. Sorry." Clary extended her hand. "My name is-"

"Clarissa Morgenstern, daughter of Jocelyn and Valentine."

"Most people just call me Clary."

Ragnor continued as if she hadn't spoken. "I remember your mother." I have known her since birth."

"Is that why you helped her?"

"Yes. When she first came to me about suspicions about her husband, I wasn't surprised. Jocelyn begged for help, not for herself but for her children's sake. She often expressed her wish for an equal world for you…and us. "

Madeline grabbed Ragnor's hand. He briefly smiled before squeezing back. As if it wasn't already clear why these two entrusted her, the daughter of the woman who was so dear in to them…a woman who was becoming more of a stranger by the day and Clary cleared her throat again. She stared back at the couple sitting opposite her and tried to gather her thoughts. Both looked expectantly back and Clary clenched her fists.

"So, Madeleine told me that the cure for my mother is in the Book of White."

Ragnor nodded. "Against my better judgment she told me where she his it."

"Wait, what?"

Ragnor fixed her with a look. "I entrusted her with the book despite her being a nephilim. Her character seemed to transcend the typical arrogance of the rest of her kind. Her husband on the other hand went to opposite extremes. He had threatened my life and Madeleine's more than once."

Madeleine took over. "After Jonathan was born," Clary flinched at the mention, but the other woman continued, "She changed, or so Lucien had told me but this was later on. Apparently, Valentine had told everyone that he lost his _parabatai_, that when Lucien had been killed by a werewolf, but Lucien had come to me about his concern over Jocelyn, so clearly Valentine had been lying. I say this because the _parabatai _bond is so strong, so binding that if one died the other would certainly feel it. That Valentine lied was suspect to me, nephilim pride be damned."

Ragnor then spoke when it became clear that Madeleine would not.

"When Jocelyn came to me, she spoke of Valentine's entire secret, or rather, all those that she was aware of. He had a basement full of experiments, of tortured downworlders in cages, stacks of notes detailing the horrors of what he did to them. Of what he did to Jonathan, on this Jocelyn was wary, she only told me that Valentine turned him into a monster."

Clary couldn't stifle her gasp. "That isn't true, Jace isn't a monster!"

Madeleine frowned, but Ragnor merely shrugged. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. I only recall what she said to me."

Clary flushed, looking down at her lap. She recalled the memories of her mother crying over the box of baby Jonathan's things, a lock of fair hair between her fingers. At the spasms of pain that flashed at the thought of her supposedly dead son.

_'So why then? Why call him a monster, and then mourn him? That even Mom thought he was wrong, because he was Valentine's son? That doesn't make sense, so there must be something I'm missing…right? I hope so, if not then I must be the only one who knows that's not true; Jace isn't a monster-no matter what.'_

When Clary looked up, she saw Ragnor stare at her. His expression was challenging, but still calm. Clary nodded.

"I'm sorry, please continue."

"As I said, she came to me after her son had been born, begging for help and told me she could not afford to make that mistake a second time; you're existence confirmed my suspicions that she was pregnant at the time." He paused.

_'So why protect me and not him?' _

Ragnor continued. "Jocelyn told me that Valentine would not stop until his plans were completed or with his death. She detailed the plans of the uprising to the two of us and Lucien. How much of what she said to him I don't know, but she expressed a desire to escape after they would defeat Valentine and his Circle. I made her the spell that would put her into a deep sleep that only the Book of White could cure. I gave it to her, but I suppose her told me of the location of where she hid the book as a sign of her trust in me. She insisted and I relented. Jocelyn told me that it was rightfully mine and that she was merely using it. In retrospect, I suppose that does make her a worthy friend. So I will help you."

Throat unexpectedly tight, she nodded. "Thank you."

Ragnor acted as if he hadn't noticed. "The Book of White resides in the Wayland manor, in their library, disguised as a cookbook. However, there are wards around the place, designed to protect against intruders. So it will not be a task-"

"That's fine."

"That you will not accomplish in your current state."

Clary started. "Current state?"

Ragnor looked unmoved. "You are not strong enough to do this yet. Granted you are talented enough, but you have much to learn. In fact, I do not believe you to be fully capable yet. Inside of you there is much turmoil, which you must overcome. I need you to be fully focused for you to come into your full power."

Ragnor looked merciless; Clary knew in that moment that nothing escaped this man that he was seeing into her and her life was an open book. His eyes bored into hers and they were so different from hers. They held a pain that made Clary feel young in comparison. Her indignation slowly dissipated and was replaced with determination.

"Then teach me. Please."

"Obviously."

Clary could have sworn she saw Ragnor roll his eyes. The would-be reaction made her think of Magnus. These two warlocks were as different as night and day, perfectly shown to her. Ragnor had a calm but stiff posture and stern features. He seemed how a warlock would act, or rather, how she thought one would act before should before she met one herself. A Gandalf-esque character of serious wisdom and a strong sense of justice and Clary shook herself. Ragnor wasn't a made up character and he certainly wouldn't enjoy be called one.

"Of course. I wouldn't send you into danger without some kind of training. However, being thrust into life is the best way to learn how to live, but I'm betting you've been dealt some blows."

"I guess so."

"Well then, come with me and show me what you can do."

SPNTMI

Jace strode to the window, his surroundings of no interest to him. Mayrse, Robert, nor Alec had come back. Max was reading one of his _manga_ books, sharing it with Sebastian Verlac, who was Aline Penhallow's cousin. Jace repressed a sigh, feeling the frown tighten his skull and increase his impending headache. His eyes pushed past the Asian wall scrolls and the sleek sound system that pulsed out a piece of music that Jace knew to be Bach, but he didn't care that he couldn't remember anything past that. He watched Isabelle handling a knife with an impressed smile, the light of the blade reflecting in her face, making her eyes spark and reveal a richer shade of blue-black. It lit up her hair, making the strands shine. She handed the knife back to Aline by the knife's tip. Aline took it back with slim fingers. The Penhallow family emblem gleamed on the handle; the knife looked brand new, almost ceremonial but Jace knew better.

The sun was setting, its light filtering through the expansive windows with a burnished light that back lit the two girls, making them seem as if they were angels. Both were beautiful with their graceful necks and angled faces, and black hair. For a moment they could be sisters; the word brought the image of Clary to him. He could see her standing in their place, the sun setting behind her. She wasn't holding the knife though and her arms would be wide open. The sun lighting her hair like fire cascading down her soft skin and eyes brighter, happier than the sun, greener than he'd ever seen. Each time he saw her, he thought he'd get used to their color but then he'd see her again and be shocked by their vivid tone that left him struggling to breathe. His sister. Jace was filled with self-loathing and desire so intense that he broke his own illusion to see again Isabelle and Aline.

Aline blushed and it took Jace a moment to realize that he had been staring straight at her for who knew how long. He gritted his teeth and let his gaze bore into her. It was true, she was unconventionally pretty. Maybe it was the way she stood; like a willow tree swaying in the breeze, but her dark eyes were focused and their almond shaped retaining a keen intelligence. Her smiled was confident despite the deep blush on her delicately high planed face. She was slim figured and her skin soft. Aline pushed back a stream of hair and smiled at him. Jace smirked at the familiar response and forced his walk into an equally familiar swagger as he strode to the two girls. He kept his gaze to Aline and nodded to Isabelle.

"I need some fresh air and I hear your garden is in bloom. Care to show me?"

Aline's smile widened. "Of course, you must see the roses first."

Isabelle arched an eyebrow thinly, but then shrugged and she went into the kitchen without a word. Aline led him out the door, it was beautifully paned with a design of cherry blossoms, the pink in stark glow from the sun. Jace made sure to shut it gently behind him. He realized with a brief and sudden surprise that his hand was shaking, but the door hadn't made a sound. He followed her down the stone pathway. His boots starkly black against the fresh grass. Aline stopped by a large clump of rosebushes that grew opposite a small pond encased around high stones; small silver koi darted around each other, causing the water to ripple. Aline spun around, nearly bumping into Jace.

"Sorry." She said, but made no move to step back.

Instead, she let Jace came closer, to the point where he could wrap his arms around her if he wanted to. The artificial scent of her perfume seemed odd to him, but not oppressive. Jace felt his heart pound in an unhappy rhythm, but it gave him an adrenaline rush that he welcomed. With one hand he brought down to Aline's waist, cinching her with his fingers. Jace felt his own calluses against the thin fabric of Aline's dress. It felt like glue, to be sticking to her and unable to pull away and with his other hand he lifted it close to Aline, as if to brush back her hair from her face, but his hand slowly moved to the roses, plucking a ripe one from the bush. Jace brought it to his lips, the scent filling his nose. He pressed the rose to his face, letting his eyelids flutter as he let it overcome him and then just as quickly crushed the flower in his fist.

Aline blinked in surprise and opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Jace closed it with his own. Her lips were softer than he imagined, but she tasted nothing like Clary. Jace pressed his lips closer, prying hers open and letting his tongue wander inside. His fingers clamped like a vice about her hip and shoulder, but made no move to close the gap he knew was there; his posture stiff even to him. Aline mewled and the sound made Jace move. Almost in frenzy, his hands unfroze from their places and tore at her blouse. A part of her cleavage peeked through, almost filling him with something close to anger. It took him a moment to realize that his eyes were open the entire time.

There was a sudden sound of someone clearly their throat. Aline gasped, sending a vibration through Jace's mouth, but before he could process his reaction, Aline broke away and hastily buttoned her shirt back up, flushing heavily. Jace turned to see who interrupted them. It was Alec. Jace felt the color drain from his face, heart pounding too quickly. Alec looked equally uncomfortable, eyes not quite looking at Jace. He clenched his fists together, forcing a smile to his face despite the sinking feeling in his stomach and he swallowed back the bile.

"Meeting over already?" Jace winced at how obvious the jovial tone was forced. "Ready to clap me in irons?" he asked.

Alec flinched and Jace immediately felt guilty. He stared at Alec; the need to tell the truth combined with the ache in his chest, so he stared at Alec and ignored everything else. Aline stared back and forth between to two of them with a mixture of embarrassment and apprehension.

"I-I'll just go."

She scurried inside, moving aside for Jace, who ignored the courtesy and made for Alec.

"Well, my _parabatai_ is it time to go?"

SPNTMI

Clary panted heavily, sweat coming into her eyes and she rubbed at with a free hand. The hand that held her _stele_ shook uncontrollably.

"Well you are improving."

Clary flushed from the praise, unable to speak as she grimly nodded. Ragnor did not give compliments easy.

"However, it's obvious how worn out you are and Madeline made lunch. Hurry and get changed."

Clary managed a smile. "Yes sir."

She wasn't too sure how much time had passed, but it had to have been at least a day? She hadn't bothered to count. Despite her rush, rescuing her mother might take a while.

"Madeleine has her own room upstairs, first door on the left."

"Thanks."

Ragnor merely nodded and walked back into the cabin. Clary took one last look at the back yard of flattened, decimated trees and smiled to herself. Yes, definitely improving. She hurried inside, passing through the kitchen and living room to take the stairs, the foot of which was wide and on the left hand side of the rear of the living room. The flight of stairs then turned slightly to get to the next level. The upstairs hallway was carpeted a dark red. At the end of the hall, was the bathroom but Clary hurried to the door closer to her on the left. Clary knocked quickly.

"Come in."

Clary opened the door and stepped inside. Madeleine's room was modestly furnished. The bed on the left hand side next to the sliding closet, it was large and situated downwards. It had an iron headboard in the design of water lilies and it had darkened with age. Across from the bed was the dresser made of oak, its mirror expansive above it. A chair next to it, seat cover plush; its cream color in stark contrast to the darker wooden frame that supported it and a door next to the chair was open and Clary could see that it was another closet. Curious, Clary walked inside. The top shelf held a few pairs of shoes, but more than that were books, boxes, and almost trinket like objects. That was interesting, but Clary's gaze traveled down to the clothes on the rungs. She was right not to bring pants along with her; dresses filled the space, the styles seemed old, like something out a period movie. The colors ranged from deep velvety hues to girlish pastels and somber neutrals. Clary pushed past the dresses to see the familiar shadowhunter gear. She always wondered what it felt like. Grabbing the fabric, she realized it was more flexible than she thought it would be, but it wasn't soft by any means. It was leather, pounded into the durable texture that she'd seen so many shadowhunters moved so gracefully in. She fingered one of the buckles, the cold metal sending shivers up her hands.

"See anything you like?"

Clary dropped her hand and spun around to face Madeleine.

"Sorry."

"No, it's ok. How about you just pick something from there and take a shower."

Clary shrugged. "Oh, just surprise me."

Madeleine smiled. "If you insist."

Clary took her shower and when she got back to Madeleine's room, clothes had already been laid out for her at the foot of the bed. Madeleine had sat down, brushing her hair. Clary was startled by just how pretty it was, thick silver hair untangling and gleaming by the brush. She set the brush down, letting her hair fall.

"You'll need help putting that on. Some of our clothes can be a bit old fashioned."

"I noticed." Clary smiled.

Clary took off her towel, folding it. She blushed as Madeleine took it from her, the older woman smiled reassuringly. She then held up an ivory colored slip, its sheer material made Clary glad she took a bath. She lifted up her arms and Madeleine slipped it over her. The slip came just above her knees. It made Clary think of all the old classic movies she watched with Luke and her mother. The slip had no straps, but it held up rather well with an elastic band coming just below her breasts. Next, Madeleine handed her a pair of white stockings and Clary marveled at the softness and she took her time unfolding them and pulling them up her legs. She allowed herself to shiver as the fabric glossed over her legs; they stayed firmly on her flesh. They stopped at the thighs, their lace trim bright and pure against peach colored skin and Clary swished her legs.

"Here, this can be a little bit more difficult."

Madeleine held up a dress and Clary gasped finally. It was a gorgeous thing made her think of going back in time, when women wore a kind of finery not from this century. However, this dress was simpler, which just enhanced its beauty. It was the color of ivory with a gold trim on the edges of the bodice and hem. The dress consisted of two parts, the bodice, which looked like a corset, was held up by thin straps and it was clearly meant to give the wearer curves. The bodice had an hourglass shape that was firmly in place and dipped into sharp points at the hips and front. The back had laces, the kind of semi-thick ribbon that could hold up fabric such as this one. The most distinguishing feature of said bodice was in the front. At the front of the bodice and the dip in the front was a rose. By Clary's guess it rested below the belly button, but just below the hips bones and bold against the sharp tapering line where the edge of where the bodice met the skirt. The flower itself was the only other color besides the ivory, as well as the only design on the body itself. The rose couldn't have been real, but Clary was mesmerized. It was so real looking, the petals thick and fresh, pinker than her lips, the color so vibrant but somehow more delicate than any shade of red. It was in full bloom and the detail of the depth of the flower somehow made her blush.

As for her skirt, it flared out at the hips before tapering down, still managing to look full by the folds of the fabric. Clary lifted the hem to reveal the petticoat beneath, the lacy trim on the skirt was patterned with vines and she pulled the dress back down, smooth in her hands. It had gold trim that snaked upwards in the outline of vines, green filling in the vines and trailing up in such a way that it wasn't obtrusive. It took the wearer by surprise as the vines came up mid-length and getting thinner the higher they went, one tendril coming to rest at the hip.

"It's beautiful."

"Thank you; it was a gift from Ragnor. There, hold still."

Clary nodded, letting her mind drift as Madeleine unlaced the dress and Clary stepped into it, gritting her teeth as Madeleine laced her up, each pull nearly stealing her breath. A few more tugs and Madeleine turned her by the shoulders and Clary looked at her in surprise; the dress was so tight that her chest felt uncomfortable, she saw her breasts heave quickly in an effort to breathe. Madeleine handed Clary a jacket wrap. It was obviously meant to be a match for the dress because it was the same color and design as the dress. Ivory colored with gold trim and green vines wrapped around the sleeves, which hugged her arms as she put it on, but got a bit looser at the wrist. The whole thing was see through and had two ties of fabric in the front that she tied together. It came just under her breasts and the wrap covered them for the most part, but Clary didn't think it improved her modesty too much. The wrap covered the lower half of her shoulders, the back of the wrap only covering the top half of her back, ending just below the shoulder blades. Clary made a grab for the boots next.

"You can use those for riding."

"Really?"

"Yes. I can teach you."

"Um…o-ok, yeah sure."

Clary's heart fluttered nervously as she laced up the boots. They were nice. Black leather with a slight heel, but not too high to be difficult to move in and ankle length, the groove in the arch of the heel enough fir perfect riding and the front of the shoe was easy to walk in. As soon as the laces were tied, she knew she'd love them. She let Madeleine direct her to the mirror and Clary laughed and tried not to blush. The dress gave her the illusion of curves, smooth and tight with the bodice pushing up her breasts, which she had to admit weren't very impressive (especially next to Isabelle), but with the bodice, she was probably falling out of said dress. This was novel; she wouldn't be wearing clothes like this when she got back home. She turned to Madeleine and was surprised to see the soft expression that she was wearing.

"You look so much like Jocelyn."

"Come on, Ragnor's waiting."

SPNTMI

The night kept the inside of the cave, calm as the three individuals speaking to one another. Unfiltered shadows of a witchlight stone bounced around the craggy edges of the cave's walls.

"Well well well, this is not an unwelcome surprise. So the devil's real after all. What brings you to our humble little country?"

"Well, I am an angel after all and Raziel meant only for the worthy to become Nephilim…"

"So you knew Raziel?"

"Yes-"

"Forgive my interruption but there is the manner at hand."

"Of course."

"Jonathan I want you to follow him as you would me." He looked at little apprehensive at this and beginning to open his mouth to question, but was silenced by an even look. "Our objectives haven't changed and we have gained a powerful ally. His help is proof enough that the angel is on our side. We will have our way Jonathan. Our plan is still the same."

"Yes, I figured as much." He stood up. "With that in mind, I'll take as my cue to leave.

He walked away, whistling jauntily in the dark, the sound echoing in some mocking tones as he got further and further away from them.

"I'm grateful that you have told me of your plan; I like it. Very original."

"Thank you. It was nothing."

Valentine shivered at the chill of his companion's voice despite his praise. He hadn't felt this way in a long time, hadn't wanted to impress anyone like this since Jocelyn. Here was an intelligent and daring being who shared his vision.

"In fact, I have a few suggestions as to improve it."

"Go on."

SPNTMI

"Do I have to explain this to you in a simpler way?" Ragnor asked.

"I think so."

"Alright, picture a tree."

Clary frowned in confusion and she shot a questioning glace at Madeleine, who was washing the dishes. The older woman only smiled and inclined her head to Ragnor. Clary turned back to the warlock, who arched an eyebrow.

"Ok, trees." She said.

"Yes. Picture a tree. This tree is magic and its branches are the various forms of magic, which can be very different from each other, but all from the same place because magic is energy and energy can never be destroyed, merely converted you understand?"

"Yes." _'So that's why the monsters that hunters deal with are real, why some magic can work for them. Bet only a few people know that.' _

"Here is an example. That mark on your arm. Hold it out and let me see." Clary held out her arm, forearm revealing the scorched mark emblazoned on her flesh. Ragnor's fingers brushed and prodded at the mark, leaning down to stare at it. Clary watched Ragnor's eyes glaze over as he inspected the intricate scrawl that was branded on her. Her ears began to ring.

"I had a dream, my mother took a piece of wood and she drew this."

Clary winced. The buzzing in her ears was stronger the longer she stared at the mark.

"I think it means…serve."

Ragnor looked sharply at her before exchanging a look with Madeleine, who went into the next room and returned with a thick book. Madeleine handed it to Ragnor and his eyes glittered as he opened the book, flipping through thick pages. Clary shivered.

"I have read this book many times. It contains every rune that exists, and the one on your arm is most certainly not in this book."

Clary rubbed her arms and leaned over the table. Ragnor slid the book over to her. She grabbed it, feeling its glassy pages cool and firm beneath her fingers. The runes seemed to burn the pages much fiercer than they did her eyes; the more she stared at them, the blurrier her vision got as something began to flash to her eyes. It passed through her and strange enough that she suddenly felt like crying.

"Of course you can read them. I think you can do more than that. I think you can create ones never seen before."

Clary sucked in a breath. "Impossible. What makes you say that?"

"Madeleine told me about the ship being destroyed. I may not know all the details, but something tells me you had a hand in its destruction. Do not forget the mark on your arm, and because you are Jocelyn's daughter."

"Well then can you get me a sketch pad please? If I can really do what you say then I can finally help my mother."

Ragnor nodded as Clary flipped through the book, the one she remembered as being called the Grey Book. The runes brought up out the images of the words they represented like neon signs glaring at her, willing her to understand. Each one brought out a sense of when they meant, of what she was supposed to do. Clary nodded when a notebook was given to her, suppressing the sudden ache in her chest. She flipped open to a blank page, wondering what to put; there were already many runes designed for all sorts of purposes. Defense, healing, balance, fighting, protection, and more; why not something that could do those things, to be put to good use by any Shadowhunter in need of it.

_'So what would a Shadowhunter really need?' _she thought _'something for everyone, which they all need. So I guess it should be for something we all have, but what would that be?'_

Clary let her mind wander as her pencil swirled aimlessly over the page. She ignored the twinge in her arm, but it gave her an idea. She focused her hand, keeping it steady as she felt her mind buzz in time with her arm. The pins and needles sensation seemed like a current that flowed from her body and onto the page. It honed onto her fingers, commanding her body and sharpening her mind to the image she was creating almost against her will it seemed. Clary's fingers pressed harder onto the pencil, causing bold lines to announce themselves on the page. Her whole chest ached and it took her a moment to realize it because she was speaking rapidly under her breath, a mantra that made her chest rattle.

"Fearless…fearless…fearless…fearless."

As long as it took to sketch, it stopped just as suddenly. Her pencil slapped the page and she flexed her hand. To Clary who had finally raised her voice, it sounded strange even to her.

"It is called fearless." She intoned.

Clary pushed the sketchbook to Ragnor. The warlock raised a thick eyebrow, but said nothing as he stared at the newfound rune in front of him.

"Course I don't know if it'll work." Clary said.

"I can verify it." Madeleine replied, pulling out her stele.

SPNTMI

"Has the consul reached a decision?"

"….It is difficult."

"He is Jonathan Morgenstern!"

"Exactly. He is the son of the greatest and the worst Shadowhunter that has ever been produced."

"What of it?"

"He seems to be following in her his father's footsteps. The destruction of the ship should be proof enough!"

"We cannot be sure of Jonathan's involvement in, so much that the late Inquisitor Herondale did not finish her report."

"I believe she had an accurate grasp of the situation. The Lightwood's behavior-"

"Is not pertinent to this investigation."

"Either way, a decision must be reached on Jonathan Morgenstern's actions."

"Take in consideration his truthfulness in regards to that matter."

"Irrelevant."

"Indeed. His actions ultimately shape his character."

"So how does this council rule?"

SPNTMI

"Thanks for doing this."

"No, it is my pleasure, when you told me that you didn't know how to ride, I'm more than happy to show you."

"Well good then then. I could use a break."

"I can tell. I'm glad that I can be of assistance."

"Well Ragnor was right. I've got a lot to learn. There is so much about Shadowhunters I don't know and some of those things I wish I didn't."

"Yes, the inequality between our races has not changed in all the time we have existed."

Clary's boots thudded on the hard packed earth as Madeleine led her to the stables, which the older woman explained that she shared with Ragnor since the two did not live far from each other. The afternoon sun felt good on her back, warming her in a way that the subject matter of their conversation did not. Time to change the subject.

"So then, how did you and Ragnor fall in love, if you don't mind me asking?"

"No I don't mind you asking." She smiled. "Well it wasn't easy. We met when we were young; it was your mother who introduced us. Jocelyn and I had gone riding when my horse went over a hole and I sprained my ankle. Ragnor was close by so he was the one who healed me. One look in his eyes and I was smitten. He looked so calm, so steady, that I felt safe whenever he was around me. At first I didn't know what I was feeling and I truly enjoyed his company, so smart. I realized we both prized the same qualities I couldn't help but admire him for them and I longed for him to see me as an equal. I suppose that was why I saw him for him, and he saw me for myself. We, or rather, he saw me in the way most people do when thy have known each other for years, as friends before lovers. So for us the words Shadowhunter and downworlder mean nothing, but it doesn't mean that everyone else sees it the same way."

Clary's heart was pounding; that the story set her on edge was surprising to her, but she could see herself in it, excited by Madeleine's voice filtering through her imagination as she let herself look back at golden eyes. Clary felt a pain so acute she rubbed her chest, trying to dispel the illusion.

They walked into the stable, the smell of hey and horses filling Clary up. It was a clean, almost comforting smell, mainly because it reminded her of Luke's farm upstate. He didn't have any horses, but the smell was close to that of the countryside, which Clary had always liked when she had her family around her. Madeleine led her to the stalls, three of which were occupied side by side on the left.

"Which one would you like?" Madeleine asked.

Clary, feeling shy, moved closer to the horses; they always made her nervous. Their teeth always looked the size of bricks, like they could take a chunk out of her leg if they wanted to; however, it was the one in the middle that got her attention. It was white with dappled grey hindquarters. Clary stared, awed at the power the muscles contained. She shivered, aware that she'd be astride them, that they could fling their rider off them.

"Her name is Guinevere. She is a Lipizzaner, sixteen hands."

"Sixteen hands?"

"How tall she is. Horses are measured by hands."

"Oh. She's gorgeous."

"I think so too." Madeleine spoke with obvious pride. "She's been with me for a long time now."

Clary reached a hand for Guinevere's nose. The horse snorted, flicking her ears back and forth. She seemed alert, curious at Clary's stillness and allowed her to put a hand to her nose.

"Palms up and flat. That way she can see better." Madeleine said.

"Oh."

Clary did as instructed and Guinevere nosed her palms, breathing deeply. Her nose was velvety soft against her skin and Clary giggled at the sensation, letting her other hand run up the length of the horses' snout and to the ears. She marveled at the smoothness of the coat. The brown deep-set eyes of Guinevere stared back at her and Clary was put at ease.

"Can you grab a saddle while I take her out?"

Madeleine pointed to the tack wall and the saddle that hung there. It was a rich brown color, the smell of leather overpowering. Clary grabbed it from its place and grunted in surprise. It was heavier that it looked. She turned back to Madeleine, who already had Guinevere out of her stall and standing, albeit stamping her gunmetal grey hooves. Madeleine already placed a green blanket over the mare's back. Clary wordlessly handed the saddle to Madeleine, who expertly saddled Guinevere, coming under the horse's belly to cinch the straps.

"Now hold her for a minute please."

"Ok."

Madeleine grabbed the halter and reins, gently slipping them onto Guinevere's head. Nickering, Guinevere nuzzled Madeleine's palm and the woman crooned in response. Madeleine nodded at Clary and she moved to the woman's side. Clary stroked the white mane, its wavy texture pleasant to her fingers.

"Good girl."

"Here"

Madeleine bent down and cupped her hands together; Clary had seen enough movies to know that meant she should put her foot there for her get a boost.

"Now when you take the reins, grab a bit of her mane, use your left hand."

"Ok."

Clary did as Madeleine directed and she was hoisted over, scrambling to get a good grip as he hands found the saddle's horn. For a moment Clary lay sprawled over the saddle, one leg bent and foot halfway in the stirrup and the other leg over the length of Guinevere. When she tried to slide her leg over, the mare fidgeted, making Clary freeze. He hands gripped the horn tight.

"Keep going. Try not to be nervous."

"I'm not." Clary said. "I just don't want to fall."

"You won't."

Clary eased her other leg over to the other side, struggling to get her foot in the stirrup. When she got it in, she sat up and took the reins.

SPNTMI

The sunlight fell, breaking through the clouds like spotlights from above, illuminating the beginnings of fall in the Idrisian countryside. The surrounding hills rolling in greens, yellows, and the subtle shades that would become deeper reds and gold's. The hills in the distance becoming more mountainous, trees covering what were rocks in forms that must have taken thousands of years to shape. The grass below was thick with life, still green against the bark, both pale and dark. Flowers in colors far more vivid than Clary thought possible, even ones that she knew were native to Idris, never to be found anywhere else. Their scent so sweet and deep that it made her head spin; she had to stop for them, to touch them and feel the silk of their skin against her own. She wanted to trace their outline in paper to keep forever. Clary would have marveled for hours if Madeleine hadn't prodded her along, but it was the sky, even the air itself that Clary was truly taken with. The color was so blue and so different from the sky she lived underneath her whole life. It was amazing, how something that had always been there could suddenly be seen with new eyes. That was something that had been happening to her lately, but for once it was amazing. To see the clouds cast a shadow over the ground before being swept past by the wind to lie over another portion of the hills. To see the two shades of shadow and sunlight move consistently from place to place over the mountains and high above, where the sun resided in the heavens, its beams scattered about the grand panoramic scene before her. Clary's breath was stolen by the breeze and it was too painful to regain, because the awe had frozen her in place, unwilling to let this go unseen and unrecorded in her sketchbook. Jealousy burst inside her; one day she would never see these sights again, that she would never enjoy what those not yet born would experience, but the feeling quickly passed at the idea that she was viewing what few did not. Clary couldn't even properly describe what she was seeing and the momentary despair that she, as an artist or human being, wouldn't be able to articulate the bigness of life that was doing what it did best: being.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Madeleine said.

It snapped Clary out of her thoughts, almost. "Y-yes." She gasped. "I've never seen a sky that blue. I can see why Shadowhunters fight to keep it."

"Yes and the demon towers of Alicante protect it."

"The demon towers?"

"Yes. Made from _adamas, _which is our in our weapons. The reason they work is because only demon's blood could deactivate them, but no demon will be able to get close to them without getting incinerated."

"I see."

"It's also what keeps downworlders or anyone really, from entering illegally."

Clary nodded as Guinevere's hooves stomped on the ground in agitation. A fierce wind suddenly picked up, chilling Clary and she put the hood to her cloak, glad that Madeleine told her to bring it. The two exchanged glances before Madeleine looked up. The sky had become leaden and intimidating.

"That was pretty fast." Clary said.

"I suppose I should have foreseen this. The weather can be unpredictable at times."

"No big thing."

"I'm sorry, but we need to get back before it gets worse." Madeleine said.

She had to fight her disappointment. Getting a feel for the landscape and finding the Wayland manor would just have to wait it seemed; from the slightly ominous look on Madeleine's face it would have been an argument she would lose if Clary tried to persuade her otherwise. Besides, Clary had a feeling that it might have something to do with her; if it wasn't already obvious enough that she didn't have much skill in horseback riding, it would be now. The ride had already taxed her muscles, she hadn't been this sore since she could remember. A poor rider and a potentially bad storm did not make for a good combination.

Madeleine turned in the opposite direction, her sorrel mare moving easily with her. The same couldn't be said of Clary, who flinched when Guinevere tossed her head with clear agitation. Grabbing the reins tight, Clary tried to twist Guinevere's head to the left, to turn more around but she merely jerked back in response. Snorting, Guinevere began to move back. Clary was momentarily taken off guard by being jolted in the saddle. Madeleine twisted in her seat and seeing Clary, began to move towards her.

"Use your heels."

The wind picked up, making any other words from Madeleine lost. Clary didn't want to make Guinevere more spooked than she already was, but she did as Madeleine instructed; Clary wanted to comfort her steed, but she knew she couldn't unclench her hands from the reins with the mare jostling more. Lightening rent the air and the sky was bright, then in quick succession, a razor like wind brought a sharp cracking that was closer than thunder. The smell of something burnt was faint on the air, but before she could react, the sound of something coming from above was hurling down but she couldn't get Guinevere to move in time. A tree branch crashed at their feet, nearly hitting the mare in the face.

Guinevere screamed a sound that made Clary shriek herself as her mount quickly reared back and almost unseated her. Madeleine kicked her horse's sides as Guinevere plunged down. Thunder boomed and the ground shook as the thunder's echo vibrated through Clary or maybe it was Guinevere's hooves as she broke away from Madeleine and bolted. Clary's shout was drowned out by the cry of the older woman. Clary turned her head to glimpse turn about to try and follow, but a jolt overcame Clary as the mare ran over uneven ground.

The rain came down hard, big drops pounding into her and blinding her. Another boom of thunder made her mare bellow in terror and the creature sped up, ignoring Clary, who lost her grip on the reins. The thin leather straps flapping in the wind, slapping the horse's neck and Clary's face; Guinevere galloped harder and Clary felt herself fly up a little and she screamed, slamming back onto the wet saddle. She gritted her teeth as he legs and ass rubbed and banged heavily against the saddle, she could feel the raw blisters already. She couldn't see past the curtain of rain, her surroundings blurring past her as all she could do was wrap her arms around Guinevere's strong neck and prey she wouldn't get flung off. Someone was shouting across the wind, but Clary felt she couldn't shout out words, but she had to try anyway.

"Help me!"

Surprisingly a voice answered back. "This way!"

Guinevere hit a rough patch of ground and Clary screamed. "I can't!"

Lightening flashed just as Clary opened her eyes. A figure had moved in their path, arms outstretched. As Guinevere kept her course, Clary shouted for the person to move.

"Look out!"

Guinevere's forelegs kicked the air and Clary waited to feel the impact that would come with one of those powerful legs hitting the person, but none came. What did come came as a surprise. A hand found the reins and tugged down hard. Surprised, Clary nearly fell off the saddle for a third time, but regained her balance and swayed in her shock, nerves shot. The mare jerked her head futilely as the hand that hand control over her began to sooth her. Guinevere was finally calm and still, and Clary was ready to get off this ride. Shakily she sat up; unclasping her arms and then tightly clasped the saddle's horn. She slid her right foot out of the stirrup and slowly raising her leg over the mare. Her whole body was shaking and the effort of moving and keeping balance was difficult on her frayed nerves and aching muscles. Clary swayed, bringing her right leg over to the other side just as she tried to take her left foot out of the stirrup and she stumbled, tangling her feet together. Clary didn't even have time to cry out as she began to fall. She braced for impact, but there was none. What she felt as she fell was warm and pliant. Clary dizzily realized that the person had caught her before she could hit the ground.

_'Of course.' _She thought, _'Shadowhunter reflexes.' _

She glanced down and noticed the hands. Pianist slim, strong, and supple and the calluses familiar and comforting. Daring to hope, she spoke up.

"Jace?"

She felt a small rumble of laughter from the masculine chest.

"Sorry, but you've mistaken me for someone else I'm afraid, but I'm more than happy to introduce myself."

From the first sound he made she knew it wasn't him. A voice very different from Jace's. It was just as resonant, but more mellow. It was almost silky with sounding suspicious or making her shudder with disgust. A better way to put it was that it was rich and deep without intimidation. She could feel his voice in his chest and track its progress to his flat stomach. When he spoke, she trembled from the vibration. She was still disappointed, but wanted to see it the voice matched the face and looked up.

It did. He had a delicate face, that could have been feminine in almost anyone else, but it just gave his masculinity a grace that most of his peers did not have. Maybe it was the strength in in his jaw or the high cheekbones. His skin was smooth, with a paleness that reminded her of pearls. It suited him as he did not look sickly, but lively, which was apparent not only in the strong beats of his heart, but by the intelligence in his dark eyes. They were the darkest eyes she had ever seen, not even Simon or Isabelle had such eyes. He was staring unabashedly at her, almost as much as she was of him. She was being studied too and she flushed, but unable to look away. He smiled at her and she was suddenly aware of how pink and plush his lips were and her flush deepened at their smile and her budding curiosity. Clary focused on his hair. The way it fell, so tumbling, almost female in its sensuality. He reminded her of a manga character, a regular _bishonen. _No, he reminded her of a character she made herself. A prince with a dark past, which meant he could never love a person because his curse killed anyone who came to love him. She had drawn pages and hours' worth into making the perfect prince, but then she met Jace and the Lightwoods and her life turned upside down.

"We should get out of the rain." He said.

"A-ah right." Clary nodded.

He set her down and as soon as she did, she realized that no one could mistake him for female. He was tall and broad shouldered his muscles lithe and thick, easily revealed by his wet clothes.

"There is a barn not too far from here that is dry enough."

"Yeah ok."

The trek to the barn did not take long as he led both Clary and her horse. It was just minutes before she saw it, Clary was amazed that it still stood. It was old, the wood warped and even burned in some places. There was a small hole in the roof and Clary wouldn't be surprised if the thing would collapse at their feet, but he opened its door easily and shut it behind them just as easily. Bolting the doors shut, he turned to her. In the split second that he had done so, she felt a flash of nostalgia. It blindsided her as did his smile, as if he had been glad to meet her.

"Well, I've been rude to not introduce myself sooner. My name is Sebastian Verlac."

"People call me Clary. Clary Fr-"A sudden dash of inspiration hit. Fray wasn't a Shadowhunter name and he'd probably know if she was using a fake one as well. "Fairchild." She finished.

Sebastian, whose head had been tilted in askance, now straightened and his eyes lit up with both recognition and surprise.

_'Oh crap.'_

"Not the daughter of Jocelyn Fairchild? My family knew her when she was alive."

Hope fluttered in Clary's chest. Here was someone who might be able to tell her more of her mother's past.

"Really?"

"Yes. My aunt always spoke fondly of her; apparently they went to school together."

"Oh?"

"Yes. They spent much time together. In fact, the Fairchild manor is not far from their old barn, but I imagine you knew that."

"…No I didn't."

Sebastian gave her a curious look. "So you haven't been there?"

Clary sucked in a breath, surprised by the sudden sense of loss. She looked around, noticing their surroundings finally. The only chill came from the hole in the roof and she rubbed her arms. On each side of them were stalls, three to each side and only one of them on the right hand side was intact. Sebastian's horse was kept inside it. It was a beautiful creature, its coat just as dark and gleaming as Sebastian's hair. The beast was taller than Guinevere, its muscles thicker and more easily seen. Clary shuddered at the sight. If her own mount was difficult to ride, then she could only imagine what Sebastian's must be like. Clary saw Sebastian follow her gaze.

"His name is Emperor. Eighteen hands and of Arabian descent. Very difficult to train, but we've reached an understanding."

Sebastian went over and stroked his mount. Emperor stamped his big hooves. Shifting his weight, Clary could see the cause of the creature's masculinity. She flushed and looked away, rubbing her arms. Turning back to her, Sebastian's expression changed to concern.

"I'm sorry you're cold." He rummaged around in the saddle bag at his feet." Here, it's not much but it's clean. You can use it and let your clothes dry."

Clary looked back at him with wide eyes and Sebastian smiled.

"I won't look, I promise."

He was still smiling as he put a hand over his eyes. Clary shook her head, but took a blanket from him all the same. She ducked behind a stall, passing Guinevere, who was tied to the pole next to her. The stall was only half a stall and the rafter above it had scratch marks, but felt sturdy enough. The stall only covered half of her body, so she ducked down. The stall, while not as pristine as Ragnor's, was passably clean, still filled with sweet smelling hay.

Clary unlaced her boots, taking off her cloak, gently squeezing the moisture from it and hanging it from the rafter. Then she pulled the clingy wrap from her arms, its thin material dark and soaking with water. Pushing her hair out of the way, she felt for the clasps that bound her bodice to her. Clary pushed her chest forward, trying to get it undone faster. When she got it, she took a deep breath, and felt the dress slip down her, dragged by the weight of the wetness of her skirts. She tugged down her tights and rung them out. The cool air hit her body almost deliciously and goosebumps erupted all over her skin, she looked down to see two hardened points on the front of her slip. Down to her slip, she hung the rest of her clothes up on the rafters and stared down at the blanket in her hand. It didn't look like it would cover much, as she took off her slip, drying it as much as she could with the blanket before hanging it up and trying to dry herself. The blanket was scratchy, but she didn't care and she rubbed vigorously all over herself. It didn't take long and wrapping the towel around herself. She saw that it really didn't cover much. She felt too exposed. It came barely mid-thigh.

The storm's breeze made the blanket ride high as she tried to keep it covering her breasts, and Clary snatched the slip back from the rafters, and thankful that its sheer material meant that it dried quickly. She put it back on, and then dried her hair with the blanket, felling the beginnings of it curling in the temperature. Clary ducked out of the stall and saw Sebastian sitting down, his back to her. He smiled as she handed him back the blanket, turning to take it from her. He folded it carefully and put it next to his horses' stall before setting himself down onto the thick hay strewn about the ground. Clary sat down next to him, tugging her slip down as they sat in silence. It was a strange silence, comfortable but buzzing. The adrenaline was wearing off, her body too tired, so despite the situation, she lay down on her back. Sebastian shifted his weight in response, so that he was lying on his side, supporting his upper half by propping up his elbow and his hand resting in his hair. He was close in proximity, yet respectful. He looked at her with the kind of innocent curiosity that didn't keep her from flushing. She had yet to figure out who he reminded her of and it was something that seemed to be intrinsic in him. Was that why she was so nervous?

"So is this your first time in Idris?"

Clary jumped. "I-is it that obvious?"

Sebastian gave her another warm smile. "Was it not meant to be?" he asked.

"Kinda." Clary changed tack. "Is this a part of the Fairchild place?"

Sebastian frowned. "Yes. If I had known…well it's macabre, but unintentional I assure you."

Clary fidgeted. "You see I-" she stopped. "Wait, macabre? Why do you say that?"

Sebastian looked at her with such concern that Clary's foreboding was aroused. Sebastian used his free arm and let it hover over her midriff. It only brushed her body, but the contradictory sensations of dread and anticipation caused her heart to beat much too fast as she tried to sort out why she'd feel either. Sebastian's expression was egging her curiosity on.

"I guess you were raised in an institute like me." He mused, his expression sobered as he looked at her. "Yes this stable belonged to the Fairchild's' we are on their land, only a few miles from their manor. Or, what's left of it. The night of the Uprising, it was razed to the ground, its occupants still inside it and Jocelyn, was the sole survivor of this tragedy."

Clary swallowed hard, but Sebastian continued on.

"It has been said that it was the work of Valentine. Oh Clary, I am so sorry." He leaned closer, but Clary couldn't discern the expression, nor care to.

"Take me there."

"Excuse me?"

"Please take me to the Fairchild manor."

SPNTMI

"Has the council reached a decision?"

"Yes we have."

"Then send in Jonathan Morgenstern."

SPNTMI

"I'm a little surprised you don't know how to ride."

"Well my friend didn't really get to teach me, because me coming here was kinda last minute."

"Oh?"

"Y-yeah."

When the sunlight broke through the sky again, they were ready to leave. Clary's clothes had dried up better than she expected, but they were still damp. As they were saddling up, Sebastian interrupted her at getting back on a horse by asking her a question.

"Not to be crude, but have you ever had sex?"

Clary, who had one foot in the stirrup and was about to pull herself up Guinevere, wobbled in shock.

"E-excuse me, what?"

Sebastian at least had the decency to blush. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry, but some advice: to best gain balance when riding a horse, you have to move your hips as if you are making love. That way, you don't have to hurt your back, since you are supposed to keep your back straight when riding a horse. Although it could be useful in other instances and it's also supposed to maintain a rhythm with your horse, since you shouldn't put all your weight onto it. Don't forget to keep your knees bent either. In a way, riding a horse is a lot like make love. You have to work together to find a comfortable place. Ah, here, let me help you with that."

Sebastian put his hands on her thigh, brushing her hip bones and his hands seemed to tremble when they fingered the artificial flower at the edges of the bodice. Clary swallowed convulsively, but Sebastian's hands moved quickly away, though his eyes did not.

"Pretty." He said.

"I haven't." Clary replied. "Had sex I mean."

"I see." Was all Sebastian said.

It took them no time at all to get to the Fairchild manor. Clary could feel it before it before it came into sight. The burned remains were like the charred skeleton of some giant. They stood at what used to be the front door. Clary dismounted without a backward glance and walked inside the entryway.

"I'm home." She wanted to say.

The scorch marks reached parts of the ceiling, because the part of the ceiling remained. It was obvious that it used to be a big place, full of life.

'_My grandparents, mother…how many siblings did she have? How many would I have…?' _she thought.

Clary picked her way through her house, so much was burned beyond recognition, things piled high and crumbling. What used to be someone's belongings decaying before her eyes, all the flotsam and jetsam of a human life left to rot. Although some things were miraculously left untouched, such as a cabinet and a picture frame, but it was the foundation that did it however, that brought tears to her eyes. This was a home, it used to hold loved ones, who probably fought, cried, laughed, and slept in this house. People who had dreams and stories, things no one would ever get to hear about again. One day this manor would crumble into nothing as surely as her family had done before. No house should outlive its family and no girl should outlive her family.

"I could have lived in this house." Clary whispered.

She brought up a hand to steady herself. If she closed her eyes and concentrated hard enough, she could picture the life of the house itself, protecting her family within its walls.

"Clary?"

She slowly turned, expecting not for the first time, to see Jace and finding only Sebastian. He was looking back at her expectantly and he moved forward.

"I'm sorry." He said.

He sounded sorry, but Clary couldn't figure out why. "Why?" her voice cracked. Suddenly she wiped at her face and the wetness startling her. "Oh."

"If I had known that it would upset you, I wouldn't have brought you here."

"No, I'm glad you did. I-"

Sebastian moved closer.

"I just-" Clary started.

"Yes?"

Their faces were inches apart, Sebastian's eyes even darker than when she saw them last. That was what she looked at when he kissed her. His lips were firmer than she thought, applying pressure even in a chaste kiss. Clary shivered at the desire that was giving her chills. She wanted those pink lips to open, to go beyond the curtain. Sebastian did not pull away, so she leaned forward and feeling him do as she desired. It was as she imagined his tongue so deft that she gasped. She didn't think he'd actually do it and then the pace changed, hungrier and actually painful. She didn't care. Sebastian's hands did not stay fixed on her shoulders, they snaked upwards, past the vulnerable neck, and into the fields of her hair and he tugged hard, almost angrily. She gasped the pain of her hair and he tugged hard, rapid and frantic. She gasped, the pain, continuous but slight. Sebastian pushed her into part of a wall, which felt more like a column. The motion sent shockwaves through her, legs aching and trembling almost uncontrollably as Sebastian pushed himself against her. Shock went through her as she felt the rigidity of his body. Instinctively she knew what it was, but her thought process still needed to voice it, witness it on some level before proceeding. Clary looked down and seeing the obvious bulge that was halfway obscured by the insistent way that Sebastian was pressing into her. She blinked in shock. Sebastian was hard.

It was like it had unlocked something inside her, seeing what was confirmed inside him, waiting to be revealed. Almost against her will, she lifted her leg and wrapped it around his waist and feeling his hipbones jutting out. Sebastian stopped tugging at her hair and let his hands squeeze her breasts. Clary loved the feeling, a newfound excitedness building in her. The position she was in was uncomfortable and distracting as she tried to free an arm to brace against the wall, but Sebastian tugged and the two went tumbling down unto the dirt.

Sebastian pulled himself on top of her, letting his weight rest on her, but Clary didn't mind. The pressure was maddening and of their own accord her hips bucked out of control. Clary could feel the bulge of his pants brush her groin, sending shooting pins into her stomach. She moved faster, pressing into his groin, chasing the elusive sensation that was starting to build. A hand of Sebastian's wandered down Clary's skirts, playing with their folds as he tickled the insides of her knees and he moved up to her thighs until he reached the frill of her panties, snaking underneath them.

"A-ah-ah-haaaaah, oooh…."

Dimly, as if from far away, she heard Sebastian fumble with his belt buckle, the metal unclasping from leather. Sebastian sat up and Clary gasped. She could feel all of him, the shift from lying down to sitting up, and the power of what was going to happen finally hitting but, she could see where Sebastian's hands were-they were tugging at the front of her bodice determinedly, almost savagely trying to rip the front, his knuckles digging into her breasts. She looked up at his face and gasped, almost recoiling in horror. When the sunlight hit his face, his eyes seemed to be entirely black, pitiless, and empty. It somehow made his familiar face appear sharper-as if his masculinity could cut her. It was garish, and it gave his face a sickly glow. The smile threw her, it was cold and leering. Its humor was genuine, and genuinely vicious. His smile had no warmth, but she could tell he was ginning through closed lips, and suddenly the lips opened, revealing teeth. The image of a monster emerging from a dark hidden place was so startling and true that she pulled back. He looked like he wanted to eat her, his smile growing so wide, it was just bared teeth. Sebastian was breathing quickly through his nose, loud as though a stereo had been unexpectedly turned on. He couldn't contain himself no more than the malicious thrusting that did not pause as hers did. Just like that, the idea of something thick and squirming was not appealing, and Clary realized how painful his thrusts were, despite being sheltered and bound by clothes. She winced and that seemed the cue Sebastian took to stop. He looked down at her and she almost flinched when their eyes met. Sebastian still looked eerie from the sunlight.

"Clary? What is it?"

"Stop."

Sebastian looked hurt.

"Please." Clary tried to sit up.

Sebastian moved his hands away from her bodice and gripped her wrists. His grip was like iron, as he was still and immovable. Clary tried to push herself up but he hadn't moved. His eyes burned, refusing to break eye contact, too blank to be malicious, but he was angry, very furious. Clary struggled harder, a budding panic inside her. She knew she had done something wrong, but couldn't place it-all she realized was that she had missed something vital that unexplained itself as it appeared like a trap. It was like getting splashed in the face with cold water, or getting slapped. Some illusion was dispelled and she drew back in fear.

'_This can never happen again.'_ She thought.

"I thought-" Sebastian said.

"I'm sorry." Clary cut him off. "I'm sorry I can't-I just…can't. Please this is my home, my family-not here. Not anywhere. I'm sorry." Clary swallowed. "Can you let me up please? You're hurting me."

"What?" Sebastian blinked as if he had been woken up from a dream. "Oh yes of course." He looked at his hands, mildly horrified, as if they were strangers. "I'm so terribly sorry, are you alright?"

He pulled himself off her and helped her back to her feet. He shifted her clothing back into place with deft hands before doing so with himself. She averted her eyes as he buckled his pants back up, repressing a gasp at the sound of a zipper moving up. When he looked back at her with concern and puzzlement that she thought his monstrous expression was just a trick of the light, but she couldn't shake the feeling it gave her.

"I'm sorry I frightened you. What do you need me to do?"

'_Go away.'_ She thought.

Another thought came to her unbidden.

"What I really need to do is go to the Wayland manor."

Sebastian's eyebrows rose to ridiculous height. "Wayland manor? What for, everyone who ever lived there is dead, unless that is what you came to see." Sebastian paused, and then continued. "Besides, even if we did go there, you'd need a Wayland to let you in. The wards that keep intruders out still work, so-"

"So I'll go into Alicante."

"To ask the clave?"

Clary jumped. "What? No, no I have a friend."

"Who is a Wayland?"

"Well kinda, he was adopted, but-"

"But…?" he prompted.

"He left without me and I don't know why."

"You don't know if he'll help, do you?" Sebastian said.

Clary shrugged, hoping it would hide how cutting the remark was. "Something like that."

Sebastian seemed to be trying to puzzle something out. "So if your friend who probably isn't a Wayland help, without going to the clave-" his eyes widened.

Clary bit the bullet. "Yes. I am not supposed to be here."

"You said coming here was last minute." He stated.

"Yes. I wouldn't be here if my mom wasn't in trouble."

"Jocelyn?"

"Yes. I wasn't lying about that. Jocelyn Fairchild is my mother, and-" she choked. "She's dying. I know it and I know there is a way to save her. That's why I'm here and that's why I have to go to Idris and see Jace-"

If Sebastian didn't look shocked before, he did now. "Jace." He said. "You mean Jonathan Morgenstern…"

Clary's blood turned to ice. "How did you…"

"My cousin and her family have been allies with the Lightwoods for years." Sebastian shook his head, "but Jace is standing trial in the Gard as we speak. There is no way that-"

"Standing trial?! Gard?! What's going on?" she cried, grabbing Sebastian's shoulders..

"Woah, Clary calm down." He gently pried her fingers loose. "Jace is standing trial because of his actions during the raid on Valentine's ship and the subsequent battle. Last that I had heard, it was hotly debated, and every active shadowhunter has been called to Idris because of Valentine. Did you know that?"

"No." Clary breathed.

"Yes." Sebastian continued. "Clary, most important fight of all is coming. It's coming here, so of course we are gathering to prepare."

"I see."

"So what would you have me do?" he asked again.

"We have to get to Jace, and we have to hurry."

SPNTMI

Alec's footsteps were heavy, almost sending him crashing to the ground. He walked over to Jace, his _parabatai; _although that wasn't quite correct, they were more than that, which is why Alec flinched when he looked down to see Jace's shackled hands.

'_Again. This again.'_

"So you heard?" Jace said.

"Of course. Jace I-"

Jace grimaced. "Save it. If you came here to say I told you so…"

Alec blanched and Jace must have seen it, for his expression softened, but Alec continued.

"I wouldn't wish this on anyone, I wish this didn't happen, and most of all I wish I trusted you, because I'll never stop hating myself for not trusting you."

Jace cut him off. "No it's good that you don't. I don't blame you. I know why you don't. I hurt you, which is all I seem to be able to do. No matter how hard I try, I just hurt the people I care about, when I'd rather hurt myself."

"Jace…"

"Really. I'm sorry for being such a lousy brother."

"You're not. Really, Jace you are-" Alec shook his head. "Impossible."

The ghost of an old, familiar grin crept up on Jace's face as if it took him by surprise. "I know."

To Alec, it was as though for a moment, nothing had happened and everything was normal. Longing rose so unexpectedly sharp that it brought tears to his eyes. So he bent down to the chains that connected Jace to his shackles, and pulled. They broke, clattering to the floor and when Alec looked up a Jace, the other boy was staring back at him in shock.

"Alec what did you do?"

"Hey, what are _parabatai_ for?"

SPNTMI

"There is a way to sneak in, should be easier actually. Since nephilim from all around the world are coming. There are bound to be those who don't know their way around."

"Ok."

"Just keep your hood on."

Sebastian spoke those words the moment before they slipped past the high columns of _adamas _that glittered in the afternoon sun. Her ears popped from the pressure of walking in between than that, there was nothing to give them away, no blaring alarms or suspicious guards.

"We have to hurry. Where's this Gard?"

"Follow me."

Alicante was nothing like she'd seen. The narrow twisting streets were full of secret niches and entryways. Clary was reminded of movies about Italy, with the cobblestone streets and canals. On horseback, it was like stepping back in time to see shops that had wide windows and smooth wooden structures. She gaped at the clothes on display in one of the windows. There were certain dress that could only belong in a costume shop, movie set, or a museum. They went all the way down to present day dress, even from places that Clary had only ever heard of. She turned away to look at the rest of her surroundings.

There were lamp posts that were wreathed in witchlight stone; Clary noticed that many places were covered in the stuff. Runes were carved in doors and signs, and there were shops that sold sweets next to shops that sold daggers. It was so strange that it made her long for the familiar comforts of New York City. However she knew if she had the time, she gladly explore Alicante. She followed Sebastian, who was going through a narrow street. Clary's horse snorted, and remembering to stay calm for her, patted her neck. She tried to keep up as best as she could and was relieved when Sebastian veered down another street. Clary hurried to Sebastian as they went down a near deserted pathway lit by witchlight stones. Two figures were ahead of them and as Clary peered harder, she saw that one was Alec, which meant that the other had to be…

"Jace!"

Both Alec and the other jumped. When they turned, it most definitely Jace. His golden hair caught the light, giving him a halo, and Clary's heart leapt out of her chest. Jace was right there, standing and breathing, his mouth opening in shock but before he could speak, Alec shouted.

"Run!'

It took Clary a moment to realize he was speaking to Jace. With a nod, Jace bolted and Sebastian swerved out of the way. Jace shouted in alarm and anger as Sebastian swung forward, scooping him up and onto his horse. Alec, pulling out a _seraph _blade. Before he could name it, Clary stepped in front of him, tilting her head so the witchlight hit her face. Alec pulled up short, staring at her in shock.

"You."

Clary nodded. The two stared at one another, not speaking. It felt like ages, as though their silent sentences took so long to reach each other.

_"Yes, you can trust me with him. He is in good hands."_

_ "I know, but it he is still my brother. Be gentle."_

_ "Of course."_

Alec smiled, soft and bright, and he stepped aside. Clary nodded and kicked her heels, taking off after Sebastian and Jace. They didn't get too far. Jace was putting up a good struggle and Clary shook off the smidge of pride as Jace hit Sebastian, but she still had to stop them.

"Hey."

Both looked back at her and Clary pulled down her hood. She watched avidly as Jace's expression changed from irritation at Sebastian to staring at her in undisguised shock. Color drained from his face, horror morphing to anger and a cold self-deprecation by his grimace.

"Of course. Of course you came."

Clary pulled up to the boys. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I was hoping you wouldn't be so stupid or so stubborn, but of course you didn't listen to me. What the hell are you doing here?" he rounded on Sebastian. "And you-stupid enough to go along with her."

"Apparently." Sebastian intoned. "From what I understand, Clary it looks like your doubts were right."

"Doubts?" Jace turned to Clary.

"That you didn't want me to come."

"Damn straight I didn't." Jace managed to sound breathless and snappy simultaneously. Blood drained out of his face and Clary felt faintly sick.

"Hey-" Sebastian protested.

Jace swiveled back to him. "And what the hell are you doing here with her?"

Before Sebastian could respond, Clary said. "Because he's helping me. You know, for my mother. I know she doesn't me much to you, but she means the world to me." Jace winced, but Clary continued. "If you don't want me around, fine. I just need your help with one thing. One thing then I'm gone." Not hearing a response for Jace, she continued. "I need to get inside the Wayland manor-for Ragnor, he says what's in there can save my mother."

"That's ridiculous." Jace snapped.

"It's the truth." Clary said. "I need you."

Jace swallowed hard, and then to Sebastian he said, "Alright, stud I can take it from here."

"But-"

"Thank you." Clary said. "Both you, but Sebastian its ok, we'll go on ahead."

For a split second, Clary could have sworn she saw the monstrous expression she saw at the ruins of her would be home, but it passed too quickly to be sure.

"Look Sebastian, if you really want to help, go find Alec, help him out." Jace said.

Sebastian looked to Clary, as if asking for permission and she saw Jace make a face.

"Yes. That would be nice."

"Ok then. Be careful Clary."

"You too."

Sebastian dismounted. "Here. Take Emperor with you. Good luck."

With that, he turned back the way he came, walking back to Alec, and Clary turned to Jace.

"Ready to go?"

Jace huffed. He adjusted himself so that he could ride properly and Sebastian's advice about horseback riding popped into her head and she blushed. Jace caught her staring.

"What?" he asked.

Clary shook her head. "Nothing."

SPNTMI

The two figures were still across from one another, the light from the hole in the ceiling of the cave lighting them up perfectly. Valentine looked upwards. As if he could see the inner workings of the heavens if he squinted hard enough. The one across from him, much different from him, in his flannel shirt and worn jeans was Lucifer. It was quiet between the two, but it was apparent they were both thinking. Valentine's face impassive, Lucifer's amused.

"I've decided." Valentine said. "Are there any formal words? Incantations? "

Lucifer chuckled. "Nope. Just one little word."

"I see." Valentine nodded. "Alright then, after all, you present an impressive argument. I find no fault in it, and you say that I will still have my senses? I'll be aware as it were?"

"Of course. This will not affect your plans in any way, rather it will make them easier to carry out."

"I see. Yes, I consent. I say yes."

Lucifer smiled slow as sap. "You've done the right thing."

Lucifer came towards Valentine with his fingers steepled together like a benevolent priest, and then reached out, putting a hand on Valentine's shoulder and another on his head. It was almost like a caress and Valentine took a deep breath relaxed but energized. Almost proud. Lucifer kept his eyes open and for a moment they began to shine, as if backlit by a spotlight. Valentine tried to stare back at them for as long as he dared before closing his eyes. The light became intense, filling the cave and freezing the air. An intense buzzing started up and began to rise. It ended as quickly as it came and the light that could be seen for miles dissipated. Valentine's eyes fluttered open just in time to see Lucifer's old body fall to the floor with a thud. Valentine or rather, Lucifer looked at his new body with satisfaction and he exhaled, laughing to himself.

"Plans huh? Well then, let's get this party started."

SPNTMI

The ride to the Wayland manor was difficult, but not because of the terrain.

"So who taught you to ride?" Jace asked.

Clary banished the sudden flash of Sebastian from her mind. "Madeleine."

"Madeleine Bellefleur?"

"Yes, why is that so hard to believe?" So Clary ended up telling Jace all of what Ragnor had told her, what had happened, leaving out only what had taken place between her and Sebastian at the Fairchild manor.

"So this book…I think I've seen it."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's in a cookbook." Jace suddenly laughed. "Imagine one of the most powerful books of all time, hidden in a book for housewives. Jocelyn had guts." He whistled.

"Has."

"What?"

"Has guts."

"Right."

It didn't take long after that to see the Wayland manor. It had a sense of something that had gotten left behind, of coldness. Jace dismounted, helping Clary off her horse. She stared at Jace, watching him stare at the manor, his posture stiff. Somehow seeing him against the expanse of the dark sky and the sweeping fields of grass, he appeared formidable. Clary reached up and put a hand on his shoulder. Jace didn't look at her, but seemed to relax for a moment before walking inside. Clary followed suit.

The inside was colder then she anticipated, but it was more than just chilly air. It was the feeling of neglect, a sterile despair that no amount of sunshine could banish. However, Clary felt the pull of this place. She was only halfway listening to Jace. There was something here…

"Hey. We're at the library."

Even the library had a disused feel to it, coated in dust, in the cold. The shelves reached all the way to the painted ceiling of angry angels. There were the rolling ladders that were fixed to the shelves. There was a single writing desk, its color obscured by the dust. Behind it a large window had a ledge for a reader to perch on, old tattered pillows still lying on the bench, their designs forever faded. As was the carpet they stood on. It had the familiar motif of the angel rising out of the lake, carrying a cup and a sword. At the sight, Clary felt a tugging that started from her feet and travelled up her body, making her dizzy.

"Oh nice."

Jace stared at her with sharp eyes, but as she examined a book, what he said next took her by surprise.

"Question. Were you that desperate for help that you accepted it from Sebastian?"

"What, you jealous?" she snapped.

"No." he shot back.

"What's so bad about Sebastian anyway?"

"He's creepy."

"No arguments there." Clary shuddered, the reaction genuine enough to satisfy Jace.

"I remember coming in here. I had to read at least ten books a month and when I was finished, they had to be put back where I found them, or…well he wouldn't be happy."

Clary pictured it, a somber boy alone in a cold room, unable to go outside. A boy whose only companion had been a bird, who never been left with bruises on the face, and got his true name at the age of ten. This was the result. A tall boy…man with a seriousness that came from more than just being a shadowhunter. Someone who hid a great part of themselves, the part that made them so great in the first place. Hardly anyone could see it, but then, Clary wanted to see every part of Jace. Each new layer sounding like an exciting adventure, but would she be able to?

There was sadness behind his eyes, trying to hide it. He shouldn't from her, so to banish it, she pulled a book from the shelf, letting it drop to the floor. Jace looked up in surprise, eyes going to and from the book to Clary.

"Clary…  
"What?" Clary pulled down another book. "He's not here now is he?"

"Hm."

Jace pulled a book from the shelf. Its title in gold embossed letters. _'The 17__th__ century methods of exorcism in Eastern Europe.'_. He held it for a moment, eyes unreadable before he shrugged and tossed the book over his shoulder.

"That's it." Clary laughed.

Jace began to hurl books off the shelves left and right, laughing mad, almost desperate as his cries began to sound less and less like laughter. When one book flew wildly, nearly hitting her in the face, she jumped. Clary suppressed a whimper at the sight of Jace frantically digging out the books, not caring if he hit himself in the process. Books littered his feet like corpses, their fluttering pages drowned out the fast paced breathing of Jace. Clary went to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He started violently, but she didn't remove her hand and Jace's breathing slowed. His golden eyes glimmered, the budding starlight behind him lighting him up like an angel. For a split second he looked as if he would burst into tears.

"Clary…"

"What happened?"

"I…"

Jace turned away, averting his gaze as if burned. Clary waited for him to speak, but then his expression changed, full of recognition.

"Got it."

Jace pulled a book out from the far back of the shelf. Its title in a simple, bold lettering: _'100 simple recipes for housewives.'_

"Gotcha!"

Jace grinned at her, waving the book triumphantly. Clary scooted closer to him as he opened it. To Clary the ground was shaking, almost screeching. She winced. Looking back at Jace, seeing her expression mirrored on his face, and she realized she wasn't imagining the shaking.

"Jace?"

"Stay calm."

The thick sound of scraping stone over stone was overpowering, but to Clary there was something speaking. Clary's eyes fluttered. If she thought Sebastian was familiar, this feeling was stronger, genuine. She knew her heart ached to respond to it. The stone wall slid back to reveal a staircase that wound down, but to where Clary couldn't see.

"Huh."

Clary turned back to Jace, who shrugged.

"This place is full of surprises. I haven't seen this one though."

"We should go down there."

"Want to check it out?"

They said it in unison. Clary giggled a bit and Jace just raised an eyebrow. It was an expression that looked so much like his old self that she was cheered immediately. Slapping the cookbook with one hand, Jace led the way down the stairs. As they got closer to the darkness, Clary gripped the edge of Jace's sleeve and he pulled out a witchstone and lighted it. It sprung to life in his palm, sending scattering beams onto ancient stones as they descended in a spiral. Clary was reminded of watching movies where characters had to walk down the dungeons staircase. She shuddered.

"Cold?"

"A little."

He wordlessly handed her his jacket, which she put on with a murmur of thanks. Clary watched where she stepped; the stairs were slippery with moss and she could feel their chill in her boots, which had trouble gripping the uneven stones beneath her. However a stench was becoming more apparent the farther they went down. Clary put a hand to her nose and mouth. She watched Jace, who had not reacted to the smell; his shadowhunter senses were up. They finally reached the bottom; the dark of the room was unsettling. It was as if she had spoken aloud as Jace squeezed the stone harder, giving more light the room.

Now Clary knew why the place smelled, but it didn't prepare her for what she was seeing. It really was a dungeon. There were cages everywhere, stacked high on the right hand side, filled with half rotted corpses of downworlders. Fairies struck through with iron, their faces burned beyond recognition. Vampires with their fangs pulled out, blood still crusting at the gums. A knurled warlock with horns that had been ground down to stumps. Clary thought of Ragnor and fought the urge to be sick. Jace moved closer to the cages, his fingers brushing the tags that were attached to the cages.

"Look- Valentine kept notes on what he did to them." He growled, disgust making him spit out the words. "Trying to figure out what made them tick. What he could do with their body parts."

Clary shuddered, unable to look at the cages anymore. Her temples, her arm suddenly burning. She went over to the workbench. There were tools, probably what Valentine used to torture the downworlders in the cages. There were vials filled with liquid, some powder, and others were body parts in larger jars. Each one was labeled in Valentine's elegant script. They said things such as: 'Vampire teeth. Mature female.', 'Warlock's blood, healthy.', and 'Silver powder.' She couldn't touch them, so she moved on to the stacks of notebooks. Knowing Valentine, this was probably very organized at some point, but that it had been in disarray long since then. She had the feeling that he hadn't been bothered to come down here in years. One notebook caught her eye.

'Thoughts on my son Jonathan.'

She opened it, flipping to a random page and began to read.

'Jonathan's skills are growing and I look forward to the progress I know he will continue to make. There is one thing that disturbs me. The gift I gave him has become too attached to him. Jonathan must learn the lesson of domination; I hope that it will not be a lesson that needs to be repeated.'

Clary swallowed down the disgust, closing the book, not wanting to know more.

"I remember that book."

Clary jumped. Jace had come up behind her, and he looking at the book with a sad smile.

"I found it in the library once. He was pretty upset when he saw me reading it. I never made the mistake of reading something without his permission all the same."

Clary winced. "Monster."

Jace shrugged and took the book from her, flipped it open and began to read. Clary watched him smile; it wasn't a happy one but one of remembrance, of refusing to be bitter.

'_Is this what it feels like to be proud of someone?'_ she thought, _'Is that what this feeling is?'_

Clary shook herself, reaching for another book and again it had a title that made her forget to breathe. The notebook's only lettering on the cover was all it said.

'Jocelyn Morgenstern.'

Clary snatched it up and began to read.

'August 19th. Have the proper ingredients for the ritual. Must work quickly, as Jocelyn is already pregnant.'

'August 24th. Summoned her, a demon calling herself Lilith. I was successful in obtaining her blood. I was even given instructions on how to best utilize it.'

'September 1st. administered the potion to Jocelyn. No ill effects apparent. She is healthy, as is our child. Have to think up a name for him. For I know I have a son.'

'September 10th. Experiments with the downworlders. Tried to administer demon blood to them. It seems that even with their stained ancestry, the blood is toxic to them. Yet, we can tolerate it with no ill effects. Is it because of our nephilim blood? Will increase the dosage in Jocelyn for sure.'

"Jace."

At the sound of her voice, he turned and seeing her expression, frowned.

"What is it?"

"Read this."

Jace sat down the notebook he was looking at and began to read over her shoulder. His breath hitched and Clary could feel him stiffen, but she couldn't respond to him, hypnotized by the words in Valentine's journal. Together they began to read on.

'September 25th. Still no ill effects seen in Jocelyn. However, she tells me she is having vivid nightmares. Nothing to be concerned about, but I'll send for a physician. This is the most important work I've ever done. Post Script, stock up on more silver powder.'

'November 15th. Lucien Greymark is no longer my parabatai. He has become tainted and I should have killed him, but Angel forgive me, I did not have the strength to. Told Jocelyn about his 'death'. She became hysterical, then refused to eat. Perhaps a new method is needed.'

'November 30th. Experiments failing. I have been studying one method, but do I have the means? Creating the most powerful shadowhunter is my life's work. I mustn't fail. Post Script. Hodge Starkweather has told me that Celine Herondale is expecting a child.'

Feeling sick, Clary skipped down to October.

'October 15th. I have found it. The ritual necessary to bind an angel. It will take time, but I have the method.'

'October 17th. I have done it! The Angel is bound to this house. I must thank Wayland for his sacrifices in the name of Goodness, as well as this deception. To those fools in the Clave, I have succeeded in gaining the Angel's blood-'

Clary and Jace looked back up at each other in shock, his face looking as pale as Clary imagined hers to be. She then pressed on.

'-it is a beautiful color. Not red, but gold. A theory would be that because it does not have a true corporeal body, yet I can look upon the Angel and feel no pain. I must be chosen. Tested the blood on myself. First ingested then injected. Experienced an overwhelming euphoria and my physical strength was greatly enhanced. Now that I have a large supply, more tests can be run.'

Clary frowned, skimming through the entries until she hit December.

'December 24th. Tried to converse with the Angel, Ithuriel. Stubborn creature. It does not want to see reason, yet it cannot leave the circle it is bound in. Strangely seems to be growing weaker. Experimented with the blood to be sure. Speaking of experiments, gave the new mixture to Celine Herondale. She appears to be healthy. Both she and Jocelyn are nearing their time. The age of the new shadowhunters is coming soon.'

Clary skimmed again, down until one entry caught her eye.

'May 3rd. It's a boy. He will be called Jonathan, after the first shadowhunter, and he'll be the inspiration for generations to come.'

'May 15th. Jocelyn is experiencing depression. She claims that something is wrong with Jonathan. She refuses to nurse him. Administered angel blood to her, hidden in drink. Perhaps more experimentation is needed. I must get Jocelyn pregnant again. Will try tonight.'

'May 30th. Our uprising draws near. Must prepare, probable last night here.'

But there were more entries beneath this date.

'Hodge has informed me: Celine Herondale has taken her life. Immediate steps taken to salvage experimentation. Everything must be moved-

Clary made to snap the book shut but Jace stopped her.

"Look at the dates." He whispered. "How is that possible?"

"He lied about a lot of things, hell, that's not the worst that he's done. It's obvious we were experiments to him. He even did it to other people's children!"

"Ok." Jace swallowed.

For a moment, she thought he would break down, but when he spoke next, she was filled with horror.

"Wait, these parts about the angel-where is it? The angel I mean?"

"I don't-wait what?"

Clary's breath came out in sharp gasps. She turned her head to the space that she neglected to see, so distracted by everything else that she paid no attention to the floor. Now she did. It was littered with bones, their fading colors contrasting sharply to what was on the floor. A large circle was drawn, one she had just seen, drawn in Valentine's journal. Its symbols more powerful and vivid then runes, but somehow much more familiar. The circle wasn't a pentagram, the design much older, the lines bold and thick. Colored red, probably blood-it was still bright, despite its age. It was crusted thick, almost crystallized. Its power so overwhelming that she couldn't step away, but strangely enough, she didn't want to. It was drawing her closer. Clary reached for the fabric that rested in a lump in the middle of the circle, her fingers stretching for it before she doubled over.

"Clary!"

Jace was at her side and pulling back the cloth with a vicious motion. He dropped it, the witchlight stone clattering to the ground and scattering the light. Clary's chest heaved, body spasming in pain. She couldn't see Jace, but she heard him dry heave on the ground. Clary picked up the witchlight stone, staring as it revealed Jace, who was gaunt and sharp, all the angles in his face cutting into his skin. He was pale, almost whitewashed in grief and horror. His eyes were too wide, the gold in them making him look like a wounded animal. He panted lips slick with spittle and sick. He seemed feverish and he wiped his mouth and stood up. Clary moved the light to stare at what they feared was still in the circle.

It was an angel.

She knew it. It looked nothing like Castiel, who was definitely flesh, in the world, inhabiting a human body. This one's otherworldliness showed through. She wasn't sure how she could see it without a human body for it to inhabit. That she could see it, see _it _for what it was without experiencing pain wasn't what overwhelmed her. It was the state of the being.

It was bound, as surely as and more securely than any man made chains could hold it. It could barely lift its head, let alone move. It was in excruciating pain, and it was obvious, and not from expression alone because she felt like she was hurting too. There were scars running all over the length of its body, the thickest ones at the base of its wings, which were mangled almost beyond recognition, the feathers stained with blood. Its eyes were gouged out, pits that dug into the face, gore still splattered and rusting over. Clary choked back a sob, unable to look at the angel any longer. She stared back down at the binding circle. The complexity of what she was seeing made her head swim. The gist of it was to trap the angel and weaken it to the point that it would not be able to leave or live. The only thing she could make out clearly was the name.

"Ithuriel."

Ithuriel opened its mouth and the sound was nothing that Clary had ever heard before. It was beautiful and terrible. Clary trembled, overwhelmed by the way the voice made her shake. She clutched her ears, but it didn't stop the eerie sonic song from penetrating and she collapsed to the ground, the only thing separating her from Ithuriel was the circle. The spasms agonized her body and Jace was shouting, but she could barely hear her name before being swallowed up in sensation. It was as though a huge hand was pushing something inside her skull, electrocuting her with its power that was trying to reach her. Clary cried out in longing. As quick as it came, the pain faded, the screech moving to a dull whine, but there was more to it, whispers behind it. She concentrated hard, hearing the whispers pull themselves to her; it felt like longing, as much as she did.

"Can you hear my voice?"

It was close to her, almost as though it was her own thoughts.

"_Yes, but not quite."_

Clary spoke aloud. "Are we able to speak this way?"

"_Yes. However, it is tiring. All is tiring."_

"Clary?"

She jumped, forgetting that Jace was there. He was staring at her in shock.

"Y-you're talking with him?"

"Yes, but he's tired."

"_I must show you both this. So that history doesn't repeat itself."_

Clary squeezed Jace's hand and nodded. Ithuriel once again began to sing, but instead of pain, pictures formed as if being painted directly in her mind, as crisp as a scene from a movie. She was there, as if it were her own experience. Clary found herself staring at a younger version of her mother. She was beautiful and staring up at a young man with silver hair, his look of adoration matching hers. They held each other tight, the only thing coming in between her mother and Valentine was the swell of her mother's belly.

Clary was standing in a field surrounded by forest. The moon was hung in the sky, illuminating the ground. The grass was charred; a complex pentagram had been burned into the ground and at the foot of the top of the point stood a younger Valentine. His confidant stance belied the cool, terrible strength he possessed. He paid no attention to her; he was busy staring at what he caught in the center of the pentagram. A monstrous she-creature with pit less eyes that framed an otherwise human face, save for the mouth. A gaping maw with rotted projectiles. Her back was hunched, the knobs of the spine visible, back so pale and bruised that the flesh was purple with rot. Somehow she retained a sense of beauty. Not because of what she was physically but because she seemed to shift. Monstrous and sensuous all at once. Tentacle like appendages shimmered inside the circle, glimmering with some kind of secretion. She straightened her back with a snap, showing her translucent skin and tool long fingers, cracking them as she waggled them at Valentine. He allowed himself a small smile.

"What are you called?"

"You do not know?" she taunted. "We have no true names, so we take them after His creations, since He had not seen fit to consider us equals, as he had no hand in our making. Well, why have you summoned me, shadowhunter?"

Her voice grated on Clary; the pinchers in the whole of her mouth rubbed together wetly.

"I have come for something of yours. Blood."

"Blood?"

"Yes, I will create the greatest shadowhunter ever produced."

The creature laughed high and cold. "Everyone believes their species to be the greatest. Yet, you have come to the right species so to speak. We were here first. Before He made mankind and His angels, and even those murderous, devouring creatures before the angels."

Valentine started.

"So you want my blood do you? For yourself?"

"No. My son. He will be my Adam-"

"What will become of us? I would like compensation for this."

"Of course, what would you like?"

"To be free to roam the Earth, do that for me."

"First your blood."

"…Fair enough."

Valentine tossed her a dagger; it hit the grass with a soft thud, landing at the slim feet of the creature. As she bent down, Valentine tossed her a cup. With a hiss she picked it up as well before straightening. She ran the length of the blade across her arm, dragging it hard and letting the blood spill out of her. It was either a dark red or black as it splashed into the cup.

"Word of warning. The more your son will consume, the more inhuman he will become." She pushed the cup to him.

"I understand."

"Remember your promise to me shadowhunter."

The scene shifted again, another one of Valentine, youthful and eyes brimming over with confidence. He stood in his makeshift laboratory, a book open in his hand. He was chanting, the language sending shivers through Clary. It was one she had never heard before. Not Latin, Greek, or Sanskrit. Something far more ancient, more powerful. There was a bright light before revealing who or what had been summoned. The room shook like an earthquake, the sound of Ithuriel's voice filling the room. Valentine cried out, clutching his head as Ithuriel slammed into circle with a thunderous crack. The witchlight stones flickered and cracked. Ithuriel could not stand but raised a pair of blinding wings. Valentine looked down at Ithuriel, awe all over his face.

"Ithuriel. I am Valentine Morgenstern and now you belong to me."

Clary shuddered as the memory changed. It was the same place, the only thing different was Valentine. He had aged, a bit more like the Valentine of the present. There were lines on his face and agitation in his expression.

"I will not ask you again. Why were we not given the full gifts of the angels or at least the powers the downworlders possess? The strength, the speed, magic, even immortality! We have been fighting a war that is our birthright, is it not right to have the same things?"

Ithuriel said noting, staring back at Valentine.

"Fine." He growled, pulled out a knife. "You will be of use to me."

Valentine slashed the knife down on Ithuriel, and a blue-ish light appeared where he cut as gold poured out amid a sudden shriek of pain.

Again, the memory changed. This time it was Jocelyn. She was no longer pregnant, but she appeared exhausted. Her normally vibrant hair was tangled and dull. She moved forward, arms outstretched. A wild look in her eyes as she gesticulated.

"He tried to kill Lucien I know it! He's made my baby a monster. I don't know how he's done it, but when I look at Jonathan, I don't see my son. I see a _thing_ and he'll keep doing it! Please, you have to help me Ragnor."

Clary didn't see or hear Ragnor's response because something else, that wasn't a memory, flashed in front of her eyes. An image of great power, of electrified lines crisscrossing and knotting together. Each line was vital to the other; a simple but not as each one became interchangeable before revealing their separateness. A rune. The image burned into her skull, but it fast faded. Clary blinked. They were back in the basement before Ithuriel. Beside her Jace shook uncontrollably. She didn't blame him as her body was doing the same thing.

"_Now you understand why this mustn't happen again."_

"Yes." Clary sighed. "Oh Ithuriel."

Jace and Ithuriel locked eyes on each other, not speaking. Jace heaving with sadness and he nodded once. Jace pulled out a seraph blade, holding it to his lips.

"_Ithuriel._" He whispered.

The blade came to, buzzing with life and bright in the proximity of its angel's namesake. Ithuriel's wings rustled in response and Clary felt a pulse of joy at the action.

'_There's life in you yet.'_ She thought.

Jace scratched the circle with the blade, breaking it and Ithuriel slumped in relief. The angel's hand reached for the blade and as Jace began to hand it over, she realized what the angel meant to do.

"No wait."

Both paused.

"You can't. You're special." She said.

"_The same thing could be could be said about you Clarissa Morgenstern. You are my vessel."_

"Really?"

"_Yes. You are the one I am bonded to, that I am truly compatible with whenever I would interact on Earth without harming anyone."_

"So what you're saying is…I could help you?"

"…_Yes, but that would mean that I would inhabit your body. Although in my current state, my grace most likely wouldn't overwhelm you."_

"So I would still be myself?"

"_In a manner of speaking, yes. Are you suggesting that you consent?" _Ithuriel paused before continuing. _"Life will not be the same; you truly will have to fight-"_

"Doesn't that go double for you?"

Ithuriel seemed to give the impression of laughter. _"I suppose so, though I don't know how much help I'll be in this state."_

"You'll do fine."

Jace looked back and forth between them, concern etched on his face, and Clary realized that he couldn't understand what Ithuriel was saying.

"Clary. What are you doing?"

She smiled. "Helping a friend." She turned to Ithuriel and said, "Alright I consent. Yes."

Ithuriel smiled. The room began to light up, buzzing like a generator come to life. Clary closed her eyes, the sensation of being filled up, so hot that she shivered. The energy, the grace swelled around her and electrocuting her veins. She gasped; the pain was still there, but far more remote than thought possible. Like riding on the back of a dragon. She screamed as her back exploded, flooded by grace. Ithuriel's wings burst out of her, cracking the walls surrounding them. Images, feelings, and sensations crammed into her as the knowledge of a millennium age being bore down into her. Ithuriel was already inside her, a fireball soaking into her skin, lying in her, rumbling with power.

The light faded and Clary slumped down, drained. Jace gripped her shoulders and she had to concentrate to hear his voice. Her own voice was still loud in her mind, she realized with relief. Ithuriel was right, she was still in control.

"Clary, are you alright. Dammit, talk to me!"

"I'm fine. I'm just a bit dizzy so-"

The ground began to shake again, with deep ear splitting cracks of stone coming loose.

'_The foundation.'_ She thought.

"Go!" Jace shouted.

The cages fell at Clary's feet and the corpse of a vampire tumbled around her ankles, one glassy eye staring up at her. She shrieked, leaping up and overtaking Jace as they ran. They raced up the stairs that were crumbling behind them as the foundation shook. Clary stepped forward, and feeling nothing beneath her feet, screamed. Jace grabbed her hand and threw her forwards. She shot out, feet skimming the remainder of the stairs and tumbled out of the passageway and onto the carpet of the library.

"Jace."

Jace leapt out just as the passageway itself collapsed, but he didn't look back.

"Why's this happening?" Clary shouted.

"My guess? A spell, something that tied Ithuriel to the manor, so that when he left, this place gets destroyed."

There was a loud creaking and Clary looked up in time to see the bookcases groan against a sudden weight, cracking together, and folding in half. The rolling ladder screamed as it popped out of place, splintering in every direction. Jace raced to the desk, pulling Clary along with him. He picked up the chair and threw it against the window. The glass shattered and Jace grabbed Clary's hand.

"We have to jump."

Clary didn't have the time to protest as Jace raced ahead, yanking Clary with him, enough that she felt it in her shoulder. They clambered over the ledge and jumped. Clary's heart pounded as she felt the rush of wind. Shards of glass flying around her, turning over and over like diamonds. The manor collapsed, debris rushing behind her as she was flung into the air. She could see everything so clearly, herself soaring alongside the wreckage, every blade of grass as she began to fall to the ground. Jace pulled her towards him, shielding her as they hit the ground in a heap. Clary wheezed as she thudded onto the grass, its sweet scent dizzying. She bolted up in time to see a part of the roof blow off, soaring into the air. It whistled as things began to plummet down. Jace shouted, rolling on top of Clary. His hand blocking her shoulder and she pulled him closer, flinching as something heavy landed inches away from where her head used to be.

They both turned. A sink wrenched out of its mooring and still spitting out water from a chipped tap. Clary exhaled slowly, but Jace remained still. His body hovering over hers, her heart pounded far faster because Jace's breath fluttering her hair. More than that she could feel him so close, like the nature of his veins was a mirror to her own. What was inside him was inside her right? Or was this just the proof their being siblings? He was shaking harder than she was.

"Jace? Are you hurt somewhere?"

"There was a reason I didn't want you to come-"

"What?" she asked sharply.

"You don't think like a shadowhunter. You're impulsive, you make decisions based on how you feel, and you're too trusting. You do things that bring danger to other and it's a liability."

Stung, Clary gasped. "If that's how you really feel, then give me the book and I'll go, then you won't have to-" Clary struggled to sit up, but Jace grabbed her, effectively pinning her.

"Wait." Jace cried. "When I meant that, I had myself in mind."

"Huh?"

"I was talking about myself. I hurt everyone around me, the way I am is wrong. Not you, you're practically an angel. Hell, you just saved one a moment ago, and I-I'm, let's face it-I was experimented on. I've got demon blood inside me. I understand now why I feel the way I do. It's not natural. I'm sorry that it burdens you."

Clary shook, matching her brother's quivering frame. Anger like she had never felt before filled her up; it outweighed the despair of his confession. Jace was about to speak again, looking even more severe than before. As though he was about let the despair color his voice again.

"Burden?" Clary cried. "I never thought it was burden, not once-how dare you, and how dare you say you are evil, because you don't have demon blood in you, because if you had I would never have fallen in love with you!"

Jace pulled back as if slapped, but Clary continued.

"Don't tell me you love me because you hate yourself, that you don't deserve any better any better because you do, and so do I."

Clary pushed Jace off her and began to walk. Jace stared up at her for a moment, blinking rapidly before he heaved himself up and began to follow her.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Back to Madeleine's, bet she's freaking out by now, I've been gone too long."

Jace nodded, heavy with resignation that she had never seen before. "Then I'll go with you."

Their horses had run off, no doubt frightened by the explosion. Clary just considered that she wasn't familiar with the countryside of Idris, but she didn't think Jace…

"Say, you wouldn't happen to know where Ragnor Fell lives?"

"Um no." Jace said. "Just why the desire to go?" he asked.

Clary frowned. "Nothing really. Just a feeling something's wrong."

"Fine then, let's go."

SPNTMI

"Ok thanks, keep us posted."

Sam snapped his phone shut. He looked warily around the room at the other occupants. Dean was farthest from him, leaning on the bedpost with one hand gripping the frame, his legs crossed. It seemed that he wasn't paying attention, as he was staring at the blank television. He didn't notice Castiel staring at him from the wall that he stood against, the angel finally drawing his attention to Sam. He was sitting beside the table that was by the hotel room's door. In the chair opposite he sat Ellen, who wasn't looking at Sam but Luke, who hadn't stopped pacing the length of the room. Magnus leaned much like Dean, his back to the curtained window, wildly exotic against the beige curtains. His legs crossed together helped further the illusion of boredom he exuded.

Simon took a seat on the bed nearest the door, frowning as he exchanged glances with Jo, who lay on the opposite bed, tossing a pillow between her hands. She appeared relaxed, but her eyes were sharp. Simon didn't understand how she could achieve such calm because his back was ramrod straight. Although Luke would've been feeling worse. Luke had shown up looking for Clary. When he said he hadn't seen her, Luke became frantic and he left, Simon in tow to the hunters on the off chance she asked for the help. Of course, it was more by Simon's suggestion, as they had gone to Magnus first. The warlock explained the Lightwoods left the day before and Madeleine Bellefleur not among them and last seen in Clary's company. It didn't take long to put two and two together.

"So why is it such a bad thing for Clary to go to Idris?" Jo asked.

"Because technically she isn't a shadowhunter and no one but a shadowhunter may enter Idris." Luke replied.

"So how is this our problem?" Dean asked.

"Dean." Sam frowned. "It affects us. I have a theory."

All eyes turned to him. Jo set down her pillow and sat up. Magnus's cat eyes dragged to Sam and he arched one thin eyebrow.

"Oh? Pray tell would that be?"

"Share with the class Sammy."

Sam shifted in his seat and spoke to Luke. "Do any of your contacts have any idea where Valentine is?" he asked.

Luke stopped pacing and frowned. "No, why?"

"Because I was on the phone with Bobby. It's been quiet on our end. No demonic omens, signs, or anything, and no sign of Lucifer what so ever."

"What are you getting at? That Lucifer and Valentine are in the same place?" Ellen asked. "If that's true, I suppose it isn't a stretch, but where would they be-hopefully not where I'm thinking."

"Idris." Simon stated.

"Yahtzee." Sam said. "What I don't understand is the significance of Idris? Strategically speaking since Valentine wouldn't want it for sentiment, so its got to have some importance."

"It's the stronghold for all shadowhunters the world over. Topple it and you topple all the institutes. In fact…" Luke paled. "In fact, shadowhunters from all over the world are going to the Capital to a mandatory council meeting on what to do with the issue of Valentine. With all the important shadowhunters-everyone, in one place, it is a perfect time to strike. He could kill everyone."

"Has he finished the ritual?" Jo asked.

"Safe to say that's a certainty." Magnus replied. "Either way, he has the advantage."

Dean grunted. "Sounds familiar."

"What's this to do with Clary?" Ellen spoke up.

"Her brother, Jace, he and the Lightwood's are being put under a microscope for the ship business. The Inquisitor tried to make them out to be traitors and Jace-" Luke sighed. "Well either way, he will feel the brunt of the Clave's hammer."

"Where Jace goes, Clary goes." Simon interrupted.

"They are not a forgiving sort." Magnus said.

"Big surprise." Dean replied.

Both Sam and Luke gave him even looks, but he earned a small smile from Simon. Dean ignored all pairs of eyes. The air hummed with anxiety as Dean slowly unfurled himself, hands moving down his legs as he slapped his jeans.

"So Idris huh? Can we drive there?"

Luke, Magnus, and even Simon stared. A mixture of incredulity and exasperation. Magnus shook his head.

"Just crazy enough to go huh?"

Dean smiled tightly as Luke shook his head.

"Impossible."

"Not for us." Dean retorted.

"So where to?" Jo asked, eyeing Luke.

"There are wards-things that make it possible to gain entrance…" Luke began.

Magnus interrupted. "That mundanes can't break."

"Mundanes are expressly forbidden from entering. I'm not sure what the Clave will do to you if you try."

"Oh not this bullshit again." Jo burst out. "You've seen what we can do, why don't you trust us?" she cried.

"It's not like that." Luke began raising his hands up before continuing. "It's not us you need to convince. This is unprecedented. How-" he turned to Magnus. "How can mundanes even enter Idris?"

"The usual way." He replied not without sarcasm.

"If he can't, then I will." Castiel said.

"I never said I couldn't." Magnus replied. "But I'm in a charitable mood."

Unblinkingly, Castiel said, "If you need assistance, let me know."

Magnus eyed the angel with a bemused look. "Noted."

Castiel nodded and Sam turned to Magnus.

"Ready?"

"We'll need more than this." Magnus replied.

"He's right." Ellen said.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked.

"My pack." Luke stated. "We can go to Idris and I'll rally the werewolves there."

"I can think of a few warlocks who might be willing. Magnus added. "So we'll need someone to hold down the fort."

"Since this could be a trap." Ellen pointed out. "Anyone other than demons we have to deal with?" she asked.

"Just keep your guard up." Magnus warned.

"A good assumption." Castiel said. "Even so, it's a trap that must be sprung."

"That being said, we'll need to hold down the fort." Magnus said.

"Jo." Ellen said.

"Mom." Jo snapped. "I'm not a child."

Magnus rolled his eyes, revealing glitter eyeshadow. "That's what children say." Then he spoke to Jo in a very patronizing manner. "Relax; you still have a very important job. You're not being left behind. Well you are but-"

"I'll stay here too." Ellen said, leveling a death glare at Magnus.

"Same here." Simon said.

Luke stared at him in surprise before shrugging. "Very well, those who are coming do so now." He said.

Dean, Sam, Castiel, Magnus, and Luke all moved to the door. Simon stared as each man began to get ready. Dean handed Luke a sawed off shotgun, the werewolf loaded it with a precision that shocked Simon and made Dean smile. Jo pulled a knife from beneath her pillow and tossed it to Dean.

"Its silver." She said.

"Pass me the holy water please." Sam called. "Thanks."

"Here, have an extra." Dean handed a machete to Ellen.

"Do we have any dead man's blood?" Ellen asked.

"In the trunk." Jo said.

Simon continued watching the bustle, noticing Sam take the colt and slide it into the waistband to his jeans. He watched as Castiel silently nodded to both the women and went to Dean's side.

"Keep you posted." Dean called.

Magnus gave them a wink. They were out the door and it was suddenly much to quiet. Simon sat up, the calm manner of Jo and Ellen disturbed him. It reminded him too much of a war. He didn't think he could ever get used to it. He watched the two women sit at the table, the light of the lamps, the only thing keeping him calm. He closed his eyes, praying for Clary's safety.

SPNTMI

The way to Ragnor's was difficult, but when they finally arrived, Clary felt nothing but relief. She raced to the cabin, ignoring Jace's shout of warning and yanking the door open, boots clattering against the thick wood.

"Ragnor! Madeleine!" she shouted. "I'm sorry, but I'm back. I've got the book."

She peered into the darkness, feeling Jace stand behind, at attention.

"Clary…" he whispered.

At his tone, Clary still in fear. She was about to ask him what was the matter when she finally noticed the smell. Thick and cloying; something that would be poisonous to taste. Jace snorted in disgust, the loathing in his voice cutting and distinct.

"Demons. That's their reek. They have killed."

"No."

She reached for the table, sure that Ragnor kept a lantern there. Her feet couldn't get too far; they nudged into something cold and heavy. Clary's scream was so sharp that it caught in her throat and stuck there letting her choke. Her blood chill inside of her as it drained from her as she grabbed the lantern. The fingers trembled almost too badly to hold it, but some tiny part of her mind was quiet, muscles moving in memory to light the thing without trouble. Chest heaving, she willed herself to look down. It was Madeleine. Or at least part of her. She was missing her lower torso and legs. Her chest was ripped open, ribs gleaming and their shine making Clary's stomach turn. Madeleine's stomach was shredded and Clary had a sudden horrible thought that her flapping flesh resembled paper streamers. Her innards had spilled out of her, and Clary realized that they appeared to be half eaten. Madeleine's bright silver hair fanned out around her, weighed down by her own blood. The strands were still soft looking. It was her eyes that drew Clary in. They were wide with fear and something that Clary couldn't quite define but she was relieved to not know what it was. Clary noticed that Madeleine's eyes still had unshed tears glossing the color. It kept the expression vivid, gaze boring into Clary.

She dropped her gaze to Madeleine's clenched fist, but Clary couldn't bring herself to touch the woman. She realized she didn't need to; she already recognized it, mind repeating it to her. Ragnor's horn. Ragnor's horn bloody down to the stump with bits of skin hanging to the crusts of the base, white strands of hair clinging like some exotic root. Clary's vision tunneled and she dropped the lantern. She didn't hear it shatter, but out of the corner of her eye saw a hand catch it. Jace. Blinking, she evened out her body weight from collapsing onto him. His arm steadying her, his frame against hers. That made it shamefully easier to breathe, so she could concentrate on Jace's words.

"It looks as though she put up a fight. My guess is Ragnor Fell died first."

"Yes he would have." Clary swallowed back tears. "He'd never let anything happen to her, not while he was alive."

Jace frowned and Clary turned to see his expression. It helped her focus when she saw him try to puzzle out what was happening.

"Hang on, I thought demons couldn't enter Idris?" she said.

"No…they can't." Jace stiffened. "Clary how did you meet Sebastian?"

She blinked. Meeting Sebastian seemed like a lifetime ago and what transpired between them unimportant in the face of what happened. It took a moment for her to wonder why Jace was even asking her this, and then she gasped.

"I was horseback riding with…Madeleine when I lose control of my horse and Sebastian helped me."

"Does anyone else know that you are here?"

"No…I…" Clary shivered. "Oh God, oh _God_. I've I-God no, please God…"

Anguish ripped through her faster than she could process, thoughts spinning. _'All my fault, all my fault.'_

Before Clary could scream, Jace embraced her. She tried to recoil, flushing at the hurt look on Jace's face. She glared at her hands, imagined blood coating her fingers. Her thoughts came unbidden, tangling within her, and making her body spasm. Then, like magic, a sense of peace washed over her. It took her a moment to realize that it wasn't coming from her. Closing her eyes, she let the feeling overtake her. If Ithuriel could send her feelings this way, then it would hold true for the reverse. Clary let her gratitude build, sending it to the other.

'_Thank you.'_

"Get out of here."

Clary flinched before she realized the harshness in the tone wasn't directed at her. She stared back at Jace, his gold eyes full of determination that was familiar of the old Jace who was unafraid to face any foe. He pressed the cookbook into her hand.

"Go. Go back to New York, cure your mother. I want to…no I have to stay here." He gave Clary a rueful smile. "I'd like to think it's still my duty to protect Idris. I'll do it till I die."

He said the last part lightly, but Clary felt foreboding. She swallowed and held the book tight to her chest; it seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.

"Ok then, but not alone. I'll come with you."

"What? No, I-"

"If Idris is in danger because of Valentine, then I have to help." Clary hardened her voice. "You can't stop me."

Jace pinched his eyes shut. "Didn't think so. Alright then." He tugged her arm, voice softening. "Let's go."

"Wait please, we need to bury them."

"Clary…"

"Please."

Clary pulled out her _stele_, the memory of Alicante fresh but confusing.

"I'm not sure how far I can take us to the city." Clary gritted her teeth. "But I can try."

With a flick of her wrist, she began to form the shape of a portal. She turned to Jace. "Hold onto me."

Jace clasped her hand, branding her on the spot, sending her soul tumbling at the nearness of him and together the stepped into the portal. The tugging, swirling sensations already anticipated. Clary struggled to keep her eyes open, but the world spun too fast to get a glimpse. Then, just as quickly as it started, it ended as the portal stopped, dropping them to the ground. The grass was on her face and she pulled herself to her feet in time to see Jace gracefully land, rolling into a perfect tuck before straightening up and standing erect. Clary felt a small stab of jealousy.

"Show off." She muttered.

Jace smirked. "What can I say? That's how I roll."

It was so unexpected that Clary laughed despite herself. "That was terrible."

He smiled at the reaction. It was the most genuine expression she had seen on him all day. It didn't last long. He sobered up, looking around.

"We're actually very close to the gates where you showed up. So not bad, Clary."

She nodded in thanks and it was silent the rest of the way. Her shoes were too tight, blisters already forming at the heels as they trekked up a hill. Jace was ahead of her, not stopping as he strode upwards, the path rocky and once again Clary admired the ease with which he moved. It had become so steep that she began to use her hands to get to the top. Jace already up at the top, standing wordlessly in front of her. She ignored the swooping in her stomach at the sight of his broad shoulders. She was panting by the time she reached his side and mildly annoyed when he didn't help pull her up. Clary wiped her hands on dirty dress and looked up at Jace. He was horrified, staring transfixed. Eyes wide with the kind of incredulous fear that came only in a person's worst nightmare. She stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. He started so badly that she took a step back, but before she could say anything, Jace pointed. Clary followed his finger and the world dropped out from beneath her feet.

The demon towers of Alicante were lit red from the reflections of fire in the glass of their towers. She saw, like a panoramic warzone, fire burning through the city. If Clary listened hard enough, she could hear the screams on the wind.

**TBC…**


End file.
